


Lightweight

by fionnabhair



Category: Veep
Genre: Eating Disorders, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Spoilers, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-09 19:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7813867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fionnabhair/pseuds/fionnabhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alcohol - the cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems.</p><p>(Or, a relationship evolves while under the influence).</p><p>(Or, how Dan learned to stop worrying and love... no one, do you hear?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

When he comes to work for Selina Meyer, Dan realizes that he knows – that he remembers – far more about Amy Brookheimer than he should.  He has prided himself on being able to move on from his…he hesitates to call them relationships, but no other word quite fits, with maximum efficiency.  But he remembers Amy.

Like, the fact that sometimes she sings to herself while she’s driving.  (It’s cute.)  (It’s also _awful_ ).

Like, the fact that when she’s relaxed, when she’s not watching herself, she’ll cover her mouth with one hand while she eats.

Like, the fact that Amy is a goddamn lightweight and always has been.  Dan doesn’t know if it’s her size, or some strange blood chemistry, but he has never known Amy to make it to a third glass of wine without becoming at least slightly unsteady on her feet.

He’d quickly realized that her lightweight tendencies had only increased since Selina became Veep – with no time to socialise, she’d probably gotten out of practice (not that her stamina had ever been that impressive to begin with).  Dan had filed it away for future use in his first week on the job – and then not used it.

He didn’t know why.

He had no particular scruple about embarrassing Amy – if nothing else, she’s tougher than she used to be, and he doubts there’s anything he could throw at her that she couldn’t spit back tenfold (it’s kind of hot).  But other than the occasional barbed comment, he’d mostly left it alone.

But he thought about it.

Not all the time.  (In fact, not much at all).  But idle moments – between take-off and landing, waiting in line for coffee, walking to the car park – can and do occur, and his is not a brain that ever stops ticking over, considering the variables, assessing the people around him.

Amy’s different than she was – back when he first knew her – different, but somehow... more herself.  Before she’d been polite – couched her opinions in conciliatory language – but she’ll now happily tell him, Congressman Furlong, and even the Speaker exactly how and when they can go to hell.   There’d been a residual girlishness in her then – a willingness to seem only soft and pretty – she’d flushed at compliments, and plainly wasn’t sure what to say, but now she dismissed them as so much meaningless fluff. 

(Dan’s sure at least part of this change is because of him).  The first time he’d pulled her into his arms, she’d been soft and pliant immediately – he could have done what he wanted with her (and did).  (He doesn’t feel bad about it – he never does – not when a good time is had by all).  He suspects he’d have to work a lot harder now (not that he’d mind).

Dan could have tried to get her fired that first year – it’s not like there weren’t opportunities – but for some reason, he hadn’t.  Partly, it was practical.  The thought of running Selina’s office with only Mike to help – well obviously that would be fine, Dan’s more than good enough to make up for Amy’s absence, obviously – but it would be more work.  And Selina trusts Amy in a bone-deep way that Dan can’t replicate – a fact that frustrates him, but which can also be useful… if he can (and he usually does) get Amy on-side, success is virtually guaranteed.  (Not that it wasn’t before).

And Dan likes her.

In a distant, impersonal way that would never have any impact on his actions, Dan likes Amy a lot.  She’s sharp, she’s funny, she’s never boring, and he… he likes to look at her.  Setting aside the fact that she’s a knock-out, (he’s not _blind_ ), he loves to watch the play of expression on her face.  (Amy should never play poker) (unless she plays against him, and that’s an idea he’s going to pursue one day).  In more contemplative moods (they happen, maybe once every three months), he wonders how she does it – her face is so small, (one of his hands can almost cover it), and yet it expresses such concentrated personality, such a full and forceful…Amyness.

But mostly, he doesn’t think about it.  He entertains himself, toying with her dismissive coolness, tugging at her façade until it descends into to full-throated anger.  It’s always a pleasure to watch – her cheeks flush and her eyes sparkle and sometimes, when she’s really riled, her chest will _heave_ with indignation.  (Amy knows he enjoys it). (That’s why, when she’s collected herself, she always looks disgusted with him).

So it continues – until he meets her family (again).

Amy has this way of…retreating even while she’s fighting you.  She’ll square her shoulders and look at you straight on and not move an inch – and yet she’ll _feel_ distant, as though she’s shrinking away, huddling protectively inside herself.

It’s all wrong.  Dan likes her best – Dan _enjoys_ her most – when she’s curling her lip, ready to destroy someone (usually Jonah, often Mike, sometimes him) for their incompetence – and it’s only when he sees her with her family (he doesn’t know how people so conventional produced _Amy_ ) that he realises he’s seen that determined…absence of expression before.  The day he dumped her.

“ _You broke her heart._ ”

Some part of him would certainly like to think so – correction, some part of him _had_ thought so, had boasted about it, made jokes about it – but really, it seemed too unlikely.  Amy – hard-headed, competent Amy – couldn’t possibly have been that foolish.  (Though it _would_ be nice to think so).  At least, that’s what Dan tells himself, and if Amy seems to steel herself when he approaches her by the vending machines (and sets her free from her awful family), well, it’s just because he’s a shit, that’s all.

He’s unsettled by it.

So, Dan does what he always does with things that unsettle him – he ignores it.  Amy is smart and tough and a smooth operator, but she’s not _that_ smooth – if she were pining over him, Dan would know it.  (And use it for his own benefit).

But she doesn’t seem to be pining over anyone – she works, she strategizes – he never hears of her dating (but she’s a modern woman) (with a right hand, _and_ a left, so…) – and it’s not until the Vic Allen dinner that he catches a glimpse as to why.

The song had gone down well (better than they had any right to expect), and Selina bought them a round of drinks to celebrate.  You couldn’t turn down a drink from the Veep, and so, predictably, Amy was tipsy.  (Fortunately – or not, really, if he wanted to undermine her – Selina didn’t notice).

Sue had, however, and was using the opportunity to point Amy in the direction of ‘politics nerds.’ (Sue, who usually maintained a lofty distance from all of them, actually seemed to care about Amy’s dating life.  It was weird).

Dan overheard the argument – mostly because he was bored (and also, monitoring who Kent Davison was speaking to – after a concentrated dose of Jonah, he was sure Kent would be impressed with him).  Amy’s gestures were slightly less controlled than usual, and her voice was beginning to hit a familiar pitch of annoyance so, naturally, Dan joined in.

“Let him buy you a drink,” Sue was saying.  “You probably need another.”

“No.  No, I do not,” Amy growled out. (Avoiding Dan’s eyes).

“Who wants to buy you a drink?” Dan asked, if only to hear her huff of irritation. 

“No one, Dan, it doesn’t –”

“Him,” Sue said, pointing at a tall, Aryan looking man.  “He’s handsome, he’s clean, what’s the problem?”

“Yeah Amy, what’s the problem?  Does he not meet your punishingly high standards?”

“I’m not talking about this with _you_.”

“Well now I really want to know,” Dan said, staring at her.

“And what Dan thinks couldn’t be less important anyway, so explain why.”

They both stared her down (though Dan could have done without the insult), and Amy’s shoulders eventually slumped in acceptance of her fate.  “Look,” she said, looking mostly at Sue, looking not at all at Dan, “I don’t want him to buy me a drink, because…he works for Congressman Lehman, and all he wants is to see if I can convince the Majority Whip to –”

“Back the Lehman amendment to the Financial Trades Bill.  That’s smart – everyone knows the Majority Whip loves you.”

Amy did not look remotely thankful for his intervention.  “Yeah.  And Sue, every one of these assholes is the same.  I’m not even sure I want to date at all, but I definitely don’t want to date some DC guy, I want it to be someone who actually – it doesn’t matter.  But this is not the place.”

Sue nodded, seeming to understand, and Dan said (he couldn't help himself), “Well, if you’re looking for someone who genuinely wants you for your body…” he trails off, and Amy looks at him – clearly certain he’s going to say something awful, but not sure which kind of awful.  “Jonah’s right over there.”

She shuddered.  “And now I’m going home.  You are exhibit one in why DC guys are toxic, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Dan said, feeling oddly proud.  (He’s going to make her _blush_ ) “But the thing that makes me different from all those guys, Amy, is that you actually _dated_ me.  And you _liked_ it.”

“Well you were in camouflage as a human being at the time,” she shot back.  “Fortunately your true self shone through eventually.  I call that a lucky escape.”

Sue stared at him, and he wanted to glare back (he’s not scared of her) (he’s intimidated, sure, but not _scared_ ).  “Want me to walk you out, Amy?" she said (still glaring at him) (as though she’s warding him off, which, come on).

“Yeah, protect me from Jonah.”

“Are you seriously afraid of the Giant from the Spunk Lagoon?” Dan asked.  (There’s no way she is).  (Right?)

“If he hits on me one more time, I will climb up on his freakish back like a spider-monkey and garrotte him with his own stupid, tasteless tie,” Amy said (drunk enough to sound serious).

“He’d probably enjoy it.”

“Could you just…restrain your natural greasiness for like…a minute?  Have you any idea how _exhausting_ it is to deal with assholes like that all the time, day in day out?  Wait, why would you, you _are_ one of them.”  Amy actually looked almost sad (so, still mostly angry) (but it’s there).

“Drink some water,” Dan said, "or you’ll be a monster on the plane.”  Amy rolled her eyes, and as she put her jacket on, Dan muttered to Sue, “Make her text you when she gets home.”

“Yeah,” Sue said, looking affronted.  “Because _I’m_ the one who needs to be told how to look out for her.”

He had no response to that, and he watched them leave before zeroing in on Kent Davison (he is going to be _impressed_ with Dan, finally and at long last impressed.)

 


	2. Chapter Two

Dan likes to protest that, while he may not have any actual _morals_ , he does have standards (some, at least).  No one ever believes him, but it is, in a limited sense, true.  It’s why, for instance, he doesn’t complain when Selina makes him attend all of Amy’s meetings with Anthony Ward (Mary King’s Chief of Staff).

At least, he doesn’t complain after the first one.

They’re negotiating (or pre-negotiating, to be more accurate) about the debt ceiling, and, at first, Dan can’t even begin to understand why he’s there.  Selina had said something about him being scarier than Mike (which, true), but he was still communications, not policy, and until something was actually agreed, he was about as useful as… as Gary.

But Ward, Dan realised only a few minutes into the meeting, was a motherfucker.  (Dan considers himself a connoisseur of the breed).  Amy acted as though she didn’t notice, but Ward treated her with an icy, dismissive contempt and aggression that was not quite sexual (but also, not quite not).  And Amy’s…lack of response, was unsettling.  He’d seen her cut high-ranking Senators off at the knees… there was no reason for her to ignore such blatant disrespect. 

And yet, she did.  She disdained any appearance of noticing Ward’s behaviour, and barrelled through discussion, determined to win her point.

It wasn’t the garden variety sexual harassment common to Washington, and having seen it once…well there was no way Dan was letting Amy go back there alone (and Selina had known that).  (Sometimes, he thinks Selina sees him more clearly than anyone).  Besides, it gives him some quiet time to check his emails, and it’s not like he has an overabundance of _that_.

In a way, it was almost entertainment.  Amy hated Dan (she said), but she hated him so much it gave her energy, sparking something competitive and childish and _loud_ in her (he loved it).  Ward… Ward she just loathed – she despised everything about him, from the tips of his Italian shoes to the top of his expertly dyed head.  Every moment she spent in a room with him was clearly one she’d rather spend with _anyone_ else, and the contortions her face went through while trying to conceal her literal skin-crawling were a sight to see.

Dan had tried to ask Amy once, when they were walking back from the Hill, what the back story was (because obviously there was _something_ ).  She’d kept her eyes on her phone and said, “What, are we buddies now?  Do you think I’m going to confide in you all of a sudden?”

“Did you break his heart, or something?” he asked, not quite joking.  (Ward was at least ten to fifteen years older than Dan, let alone Amy, but it wasn’t impossible).

“No,” Amy said.  “I wouldn’t touch that man with a ten foot…I wouldn’t let you touch him even.”

“Me?  You think _I’d_ be tainted by – what the fuck did he _do_?”

“We’re not talking about this.”  He’d stopped walking then, and stared at her, because her voice had that tearful tone in it (when Amy gets _really_ angry she cries, and Dan knows it) (and she _hates_ that he knows it).  “Just trust me, beside him, you look like a fucking teddy bear.  And you’re the –”

“Lowest of the low, the fungus that grows on fungus, yeah, you’ve said.”

“But him… fuckers like him should be driven out of Washington with flames and pitch-forks.  I can’t _believe_ Mary King hired him.”

“I can,” Dan said.  Ward was so unpleasant even he didn’t want to be in a room with him for too long – it wasn’t a particularly classy negotiating technique, but it was effective.

And then the budget negotiations failed, and no more meetings were necessary, and Dan was too busy loathing that fuck from Boston to think about it.  Amy didn’t even _like_ him.

When Amy _actually_ liked a guy, she didn’t react to him as though he was an octopus trying to hug her (she held her face up to be kissed).  She didn’t have to put on a fake, high-pitched giggle (she was laughing too much already).  She didn’t ignore him for her job (she’d never ignored _Dan_ , not once.  He wasn’t sure she _could_ ).  And she didn’t run out on their dates, or dismiss the idea of seeing him again.  (She’d never done it when she was dating Dan).  (But she wasn’t dating Dan).

And if this tree-sized Boston Quaker couldn’t even figure that out, how could he imagine the Veep would remember his name?  And Dan was supposed to pretend he was a real person, a person with a right to sarcasm, just because Amy felt like dragging him places.

Dan didn’t think so.  And, while getting shitfaced with Jonah Ryan was never going to be his proudest moment, it seemed the only rational response at the time.

He knew exactly what she was doing, and he refused to dignify her little scheme by treating Ed like her actual boyfriend.  (What did Amy even _want_ a boyfriend for anyway?  He’d only slow her down, and she wasn’t exactly good with people needing things from her).  (Plus, she could get laid in any room she walked into, so it couldn’t be for the sex).

Anyway, he had a campaign manager post to get and a presidency to win, and so long as Ed wasn’t in his direct line of sight, Dan could manage to ignore their pathetic little pretence.

Which didn’t make him any less gleeful when Ed didn’t (couldn’t?) (wouldn’t?) come to Mike’s wedding.  He teased Amy by offering to be her date (and she rolled her eyes) and asking if the honeymoon was over (and she rolled her eyes), and just generally being as much of a shithead as his (well-developed) repertoire allowed.

Of course, if Dan _had_ been her date he would have been a terrible one (though it’s not like Amy didn’t _expect_ him to ditch her halfway through the night).  (She’d just expected it to be for another woman).

He did make his way back, eventually, eager to be hailed and treated like a hero and thanked by all for having spared them _years_ of torment at Jonah’s hands.  Mike already knew, (and kissed Dan on the cheek for it, which… it was his wedding day, he got _one_ ), but he waved Dan over to Amy, saying, “She doesn’t know yet.”

She was sitting at the bar, accompanied by some thirty year old virgin who didn’t seem to notice that Amy would rather chew on a straw and stare at nothing than make eye-contact.  Dan joined them, patting her shoulder and saying, “Miss me, honey?” and the dweeb vanished.

Amy gestured at him with her bouquet (which, she’d caught the bouquet?  Dan wanted to know the story behind _that –_ she’d been so busy texting).  “If you’re going to be gross and bizarrely territorial, can you do it for the rest of the night?  I can’t be… bothered with these people, by these people.”

“Well, if you like me for getting rid of that idiot, be prepared to love me,” he said, sliding his phone over.  He didn’t bother watching the video again, wanting the pleasure of seeing Amy’s first reaction.

By the end, her eyes were wide in babyish, delighted shock.  “You did this?”  Dan puffed his chest out, and grinned.  “You’re like…a Giantkiller,” she said, moving to hug him and almost falling off her stool.

Oh yeah, she was shitfaced.  Dan levered her back up, stood closer to her (to catch her) (if she fell again).  Amy seemed totally unfazed by either the fall, or the fact that he was so close to her she was almost in his arms (so, _really_ shitfaced).  “I’m going to wear a low-cut top in celebration.  For like a week.”

“I’ll take it, but really, Amy, thanks would have been sufficient.”

“Not _you_ ,” Amy said, slapping him.  “Jonah no longer gets to stand over my desk for half an hour every day, spanking in one out in the dank recesses of his brain because he works in the WHITE HOUSE.  No more leering, no more spit-roasting jokes, no more –”

“No more leering?”  She couldn’t possibly be that naïve.

“Not ever, obviously, it’s Washington, and I’m a woman with a pulse,” she said, like _he_ was the one being stupid.  “But not on a daily basis either.”

Dan raised his eyebrows at her, because…come on.

“You don’t leer,” Amy said, her bottom lip sticking out stubbornly (which…jesus).  “I don’t think you even _look_.  That would require the ability to feel sexual desire for something that’s not your own reflection.”

“It is a good reflection,” he said, but added (feeling obscurely insulted).  “But we both know that’s not true.”

“No, _we_ don’t.  Mike wants sex, everyone knows Jonah wants sex, I want sex, but you… it’s like you’re Gary but you’re also your own Selina.”  Amy screwed up her face at that one, seeming to have disgusted herself, and, feeling sincerely angry now, Dan leaned down and said harshly in her ear, “West Virginia.”

“What are you –”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Dan said, splaying one of his hands out across her hip (to help her stay upright).

“That wasn’t anything.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t meet my eye for an hour afterwards?”

(What it had been was Advance fucking up – more than usual – and arranging a pick-up car that sat five, not six.  And while all of Gary’s wet dreams would have come true if Selina had sat on his knee, anyone with a merely average grasp of human behaviour knew that would never happen.  And since Amy was the designated sittee, her choice of seat was equally obvious and predictable (not that she’d looked _happy_ about it).  It had been a long, _bumpy_ drive up to the hellhole they were visiting for who knew what the fuck reason, and Dan had enjoyed every minute of it).

“That was just…a reaction,” Amy said, not quite looking at him.  “You’re a man, you have physical triggers, it’s not…you had a warm body bouncing around in your lap for an hour, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“But it was _your_ body,” Dan says, and he actually sees Amy gulp.  But even well past drunk, she’s still Amy, and so she narrowed her eyes at him.  “Why are you pushing this?”

It brings him up short, because…why _is_ he pushing it?  He doesn’t want to fuck Amy.  (Well, no, that’s not true).  (There is virtually no situation he can imagine that wouldn’t be profoundly improved by the opportunity to fuck Amy).  (But he’s going to be Campaign Manager soon, that is, her boss, and adding sex to that scenario (again) would be…unwise).  (He doesn’t want her to leave).  (He needs her brain).

“In a way, you know, I’m paying you a compliment.  I’m saying you’re _not_ a low-level sexual harasser, which, in this town – ”

“By basically calling me a eunuch.  Again.”

She laughed.  “You’re still angry about that?  And I didn’t – a eunuch _physically_ can’t have sex, but you, you want –”

“Yeah, yeah, Amy, keep telling yourself that.  Did you really never notice that I love to look?  Why do you think I always walk behind you?”

“You’re just fucking with me,” she said, though she didn’t sound too sure.  (Good).

“Maybe,” Dan said, bending his head so his mouth was almost at her ear.  “Or maybe not.  You do have such pretty blonde hair.”  Amy glared at him (but he’d seen a half-repressed shiver run down her neck, so…)  “And it smells nice too.”

“Whatever,” she said.  “Maybe you are occasionally capable of attraction to a human being who’s not yourself, I wouldn’t know… but that wasn’t my point.”

“Well please, continue.”

“My point is – fine, maybe you do ‘look’ from time-to-time, I don’t know, and I don’t care, you can look all you want.”

“Thanks, I will.”

“But you don’t walk around all, ‘AMY!  The fact you have breasts has engorged my PENIS!  I’m going to talk about it until the WALL bleeds, BITCH, the WALL!  Because everyone, ON THE PLANET, needs to know about the state of my BONER.”  Her imitation of Jonah is almost unnervingly good, and Dan can only say, “Jesus.”

“Every day,” Amy says, “Every day since the election.  And you once thought I’d procreate with that science experiment.” 

She grimaces, and Dan has to agree.  (He’d found it funny to joke about at the time, but now…) 

“I really do hate him.  This is the happiest day I’ve had since…since… the last one.”

“Well I’m glad I could bring a little sunshine to your life.”

“Why did you come back anyway, there are no bridesmaids?”

She’s half-smiling at him, and it throws him.  He doesn’t want to say, “because I wanted to see your face when you heard,” and he doesn’t want to say, “because I didn’t want to miss it,” and he’s stuck.  He keeps staring at her, and finally she slides off the stool (very unsteady, but she manages it), picking her shoes up from the bar.  (She’s so small without heels, he always forgets).

“You can cruise to your heart’s content now,” she says, “I’m going home.”

“Pity Ed won’t be there to –”

“Yeah,” she says, grinning like she’s thought of a way to burn him.  “But there’s no you, so I still come out ahead.”

“Whatever Amy.  Enjoy your Downton Abbey marathon.”

Once she’s left, he flags the barman and gets himself a drink at long last.  When he leaves, he takes her bouquet home with him – he’s going to take it to work and tease her with it.  (But he doesn’t.)  (He doesn’t know why).


	3. Chapter Three

A useful quality of Amy’s is that – in addition to being a lightweight – while drunk she has the approximate memory of a dementia patient.  She’ll usually have a vague memory of the substance of the conversation, but little more than that.  (However, she’s still Amy, and any attempt to convince her that she declared her love, or danced on the bar, is doomed to failure).  (He knows – he’s tried).

So, Dan’s not worried when she comes in the morning after Mike’s wedding, wearing flats (and she never wears flats), and clutching her coffee like a comfort blanket.  Obviously she remembers they spoke (she’s not surprised at Jonah’s absence), but none of the details seem to have stuck.  (He’s _not_ disappointed.  He’s relieved actually.)

She spends most of the day snapping at Gary for having made her dance all night in heels (which, the only thing Gary has ever successfully _made_ Amy do is roll her eyes), and for breathing too loudly, and for being unnecessarily in her presence fidgeting with the Leviathan.  Dan would tell her to let up, but 1) he doesn’t care, 2) it’s entertaining, and 3) given the hurricane of incompetence she’s dealing with trying to set up the campaign headquarters in Maryland, he figures she needs the release.

(Dan does manage to make her laugh later in the day, when Gary puts a dainty almond croissant on her desk, and asks, plaintively, if she needs anything else.  Clearly, he’s missing Selina).

With the Veep on her book tour and everyone else out of the office, they actually manage to get some work done.  It’s nice.  Dan even convinces her to grab a burger with him (a slider actually – Amy has a strange love for tiny food) while they walk through ways to break Danny Chung.

They make a good team – though it’s easy to forget when Selina is setting them at each other’s heads (it’s almost cruel the way she dangles the Campaign Manager job in front of Amy – though it’s not calculated enough to be cruel, and Dan would know – Amy has years invested in Selina, and trust, supposedly, and he can see her tension rising each time).  (Which doesn’t make any actual _difference_ to his plans, but he avoids actively sabotaging her.  It’s going to hurt enough when she loses, he doesn’t need to add specific resentment on top of that).  (He doesn’t want her to _leave_ ).

He calls her the night he’s made Campaign Manager.  Not to gloat.  (Well, yes, to gloat).  (But mostly so she can call him a scum-sucking bastard in private.  If she can get her aggression out over the phone, she’s less likely to slap him in public).

She picks up the third time he calls.  “Fuck you, Dan.”

“Good evening to you too.”

Amy sighs a deep, long-suffering sigh.  “What do you want?”

“Can’t I call the most important member of my campaign team for a chat?”

“Dan, I am not, nor will I ever be, a member of _your_ team.”

“Well that’s where you’re wrong, cause I’m Campaign Manager.  You work for me now sugar.”

There’s a long silence from the other end of the phone, and Dan hears car horns and what might be an ambulance.  Finally, she speaks.  “We threw cum at Jonah’s door.”

“What?”  Dan tries to make sense of it in his own head, but has to ask again.  “What?”

“Mike’s doing IVF, so he just has tubs of it, lying around.  He masturbated in my _bathroom_ , Dan.  I have to shower in there.  And he had a jar that had gone off – did you know it goes off? – actually, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know – so we went and threw it.”

“Where are you?” he asks, having realised, from her disjointed storytelling, that she’d made the mistake of drinking (probably with Ben) (in which case, it was a miracle she was vertical).  (He doesn’t need a ‘Meyer campaign staff turn to drink’ headline on Politico).

“Just outside my apartment.  I don’t want to go inside.”

“Okay drama queen, “ Dan says, starting to lose patience, “You have noticed it’s a degree above fucking freezing?  Go inside where you’ll –”

“I worked so hard.  And you, I _knew_ you would do this to me – again – I knew it, and I didn’t stop it.”

“I’m not sorry,” Dan says.  (And he’s not).  (He gets it – he does – but she can’t imagine he would ever say no.  She wouldn’t.)

“I know you’re not.  You never are.”  She sounds so bitter, it’s hilarious.  “I’m just another dead body under your bed.”  He’s trying to work out how to make a joke out of that, but can’t (it’s a little too dark, even for him), and she continues.  “What am I supposed to do tomorrow?”

“Easy,” he says, enjoying himself.  “What I tell you.  You liked it before.”  He expects her to fight him (the way she always does when he refers to their past), or scoff, or something, but she just sniffs (and jesus, if Amy actually starts fucking crying on the phone to him, he’s hanging up).  “Now get up, go into your _warm_ apartment, watch one of those shitty films you love with the big dresses until you go to sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Fuck you Dan,” Amy says, and hangs up.

But she comes to into work the next morning, so he considers it a win.

Only, she doesn’t _really_ come to work.  She’s there, and she does what Dan tells her (and as she’s Amy, she does it well), but that’s it.  She doesn’t argue with him, she doesn’t bounce ideas off him, she doesn’t even make suggestions (well, she does sometimes, but then she catches herself, and acquiesces to whatever demand he’s made of her), and fuck it all… he actually misses the sound of her voice when she argues with him.  Not that he needs it – he’s fine – he can keep things going – he could make Gary President if he tried…

But no one the team wants him to succeed, not really, and Selina is fucking up in every direction, and everything feels like it’s sliding downhill, and…

(And Amy shouldn’t have found out in front of everyone, Dan doesn’t know how he didn’t realise that.  Selina should have taken her out somewhere, told her privately, because Selina could have kept Amy on side, and Dan can’t.  Or maybe he should have told her, when they were alone, and _let_ her hit him, at least once – but frankly, he’s _not_ a nice person, and probably would have fucked it up, and anyway he was too high on victory to realise it was important).  (And, even half-assing it, Amy is still the most useful person on the team, the best support he actually has).

She’s the only one who texts him after London.  (Admittedly, it’s a ‘get your vapid, useless ass back to work before I snap and kill Kent,’ text, but it’s something).  She’s also the only one who doesn’t make fun of him for having a panic attack, which is…suspiciously nice behaviour, actually (though Amy does like to draw little lines for herself, in some desperate attempt to pretend she still has a conscience).

They end up drinking in the hotel bar after the first debate – though it’s less of a social occasion and more an opportunity to watch Furlong and Doyle competitively insult each other.  Amy looks even more bored with the dick-waving than usual, and she keeps checking her phone – in a sufficiently obsessive way that Dan eventually forces a drink into her hand.  “You have to relax – take it from me.”

She cuts her eyes at him, but doesn’t say anything, and Gary pipes up.  “Maybe we should bring back Ray and his healing hands for Amy.”

“Shut the fuck up, Gary,” she says, on reflex.

“Well, you enjoyed his massage so much.”

Dan almost spits up his drink.  “You let that abdominal muscle with a face touch you?  What the fuck?”

“NO,” Amy says, almost blushing, “I mean… yes, but it wasn’t like that.”

“Like what?” Dan says, and he knows he’s smirking like a bitch, and he doesn’t care.

“I had to distract him.”

“Yeah, I bet you did.”

Amy grimaces, and leans up to mutter in his ear.  “Andrew was in her hotel room, and Ray was trying to get in, and he’d been wanting to… to get his hands on me –”

Dan snorts.  (How had he missed this?) “And the only solution you could come up with was –”

“A massage, Dan.”

“With a happy ending?”

“No, gross.”

“Well then what was the point?” He’s properly enjoying himself for the first time in weeks.

“The point was avoiding a deeply embarrassing blow-up in the hotel corridor, which…you should be thanking me.”

“Seems like you did pretty well for yourself.”

“You’re the one who hired him as a sex slave, are you really surprised he can give a decent massage?  He had really big hands.”

“Jesus, Amy, is Ed really that bad in bed?  Does he have tiny girl hands?  I mean, that’s only one of a number of angles I could take with that, but still…”

“You’re criticising Ed for not knowing how to pleasure a woman, really, you?  That level of irony should collapse at least your spleen.”

“Yeah, that’s why you got yourself a mini-me.”

“He’s a writer, not a mafia-enforcer in the wrong industry, so – ”

“Please,” Dan said.  “Where did you even dig him up?  Or did you just have some scientists build him out of my leftover –”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Amy says, looking like she wants to hit him.  “And he went to college with a…a friend.”

“A friend?  Oh, I see, he was your boyfriend’s room-mate, you were rude to him in the kitchen late one night, and he fell desperately in love with you because he’s a quivering masochist?”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah?  Which part is wrong?”

She looks frustrated for a moment (he’s got her, he can tell), and eventually declares, “I’m going to bed.”

“I think you mean to obsessively refresh twitter and straighten your hair.”

“Well the company’s better.”  But she stops by his chair, and actually touches his cheek for a half a moment.  “You know, I think I miss the beard.”

“Oh, the beard did it for you, did it?”

“Yeah, sure.  That’s what it is.  Also, it made you look like a man and not an underage Prom King with delusions of grandeur.”

“Well, sorry Ame, the Veep has spoken.”

She gives him a weird half-smile – the dimples in her cheeks flashing quickly at him – and leaves.  And if Dan leans back to watch, that’s no one’s business but his own.


	4. Chapter Four

Amy’s a better campaign manager than he is.  It’s not that she’s smarter, or anything like that, (Dan’s sure she’s not smarter), but she’s better able to rein in Selina’s attention deficiencies, and the team don’t actively despise her and work against her at every turn.  (Which is unfair, because Amy’s not better than him, or nicer, Dan knows this.  If anything, she can be even _more_ ruthless when she needs to be).

And Dan is – without question – the most important member of Amy’s team, the one she turns to time after time, whenever there’s been some colossal fuck-up (so, almost every day).  She doesn’t treat him like he’s fragile, and she never comforts him about London and…things proceed.  He’s the one person on the team Amy actually trusts, and… it’s nice. 

(Dan realises this shortly after the first debate, and promptly decides not to think about it – it’s unsettling).

And then they make it to the White House.

It’s every dream imaginable come true, and Dan’s practically drowning in Senators and journalists and chiefs-of-staff who so desperately want him.  Between appointments, and scandals, and the chaos of moving offices… well, he feels a weird drop in his stomach on the days he sees Amy walking through the corridors, temporarily back from the campaign trail.  It’s part relief, to see her still looking sane (and tense, and generally thwarted), and part… he’s just happy to see her face.  (It’s one of the only faces in the world he _doesn’t_ want to punch).

And then he loses the White House.

He doesn’t hear from Amy (bar a text late the evening of his firing, asking if he needs suicide watch) but he does get a job offer from a think tank run by former Senator Blouser.  Dan can’t be bothered to check LinkedIn, but he’s almost certain Amy interned for Blouser back in the day – he’d still rather stab himself in the thigh than work for a think tank, but it’s a nice gesture.  (Though, since Amy never mentions it to him, he’s relatively sure he wasn’t supposed to work that out).

But lobbying calls, and he dives in, trying to react the way he’s supposed to react, and trying not to be caught off balance, and it’s much harder than he thought it would be.

When he sees her at CNN, he is genuinely pleased (and he can’t remember the last time he felt that way).  It’s so easy to fall back into old ways and go for a drink (and Sidney will approve, when Dan tells him he’s been buttering Amy up).

She’s smiling at him (and her smile takes up so much room it’s like her whole face is beaming at him), and… he can’t help himself – he toys with her a little.

“ _We could still be great._ ”

He doesn’t say anything he can’t walk back, and Amy falls into the trap (half-falls really).  She’s leaning towards him – all bright-eyes, pink lips, soft skin and prettiness – but her arms are crossed over her chest (protecting herself, though Dan doesn’t think she’s aware she’s doing it) (wise girl).

He sees a flicker of disappointment, but she covers it well (and he’s _such_ scum for enjoying it as much as he does, but…it’s so pleasing to know…Amy may have the White House, but she still wants _him_ ).  (She could have anyone she wanted, but yet here she is, practically vibrating with hope that he’ll finally make a move).  

(Though, really, what does she think will happen between them?  She knows what he’s like). 

(And he’d rather have her like this – half-soft, half-sweet on him, but only half – than spewing poison the way she used to, the way she inevitably would when he…well, not fucked it up, but once he acted like himself).

But then she gets the call from the White House, and Dan _sees_ her shoulders pull in, tension running rigid through her body (and she has tears in her voice too) (and she hates that), and… he knows what it’s like.  No one stepped in when he was about to go under, but…

He orders tequila.  And then more.

He’d hoped it would relax her, and maybe it did (a little), but not enough.  And he wanted to touch her arm, or run his hand down her back (anything to calm her down), but he can’t now (not after having so blatantly _not_ made a move) (he’ll seem like the most opportunistic type of asshole) (which…he is, normally.  And not ashamed of it.  But that’s not why he wants to touch her right now).  Still, he tries.

She’s downed her second shot of tequila, when he asks, “So, why don’t you go see Ed for the weekend?”

Amy makes a face at him, sceptical and annoyed.  “Why would I do that?”

“So you can…take a break – have him fuck some of that nervous energy out of you.  If he knows how to do that.”

She starts laughing.  “You think Ed is going to make me _less_ tense?  You’re an idiot.”

“I’m not saying I think it’ll be _good_ , I’m not saying it’ll live up to what you had before –”

“You are such a fucking narcissist.”

“But it’s something, Amy.”

“I thought you considered yourself in the loop, Dan?” Amy said, trying and failing to catch the barman’s eye.

“What?”

“Ed and I broke up.”

Dan starts to grin (he can’t help it).  “When was this, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” Amy said, dismissively, (still looking at the barman), “Months ago.”

“And you didn’t mention this to me because... ?”

“Seriously?  You’re actually asking that?”  Amy said, slumping back down on her stool.

“Yeah.”

She points at his grin, “That’s why.  That look of pure malicious glee on your face.”

“I take no pleasure in your pain and heartbreak.”

“It’s amazing the way you try to lie even when we both know –”

“Like you were ever going to make it work with a fucking Quaker, Amy, come on.”

“You don’t know,” she said, meanly.  “You don’t know anything about relationships between actual humans, don’t try –”

“Well, I could tell that Ed was never going to last, so obviously –”

“Only because you can’t stand the thought of a woman wanting a man who’s not you.  That’s not insight, Dan, it’s… pure chance that you were right.”

“Yeah, and you seem really broken hearted about it too.”

“Well.” Amy says, and she pauses, staring off into space.  “I mean I’m not, and…that’s good.”  Dan nudges her when she drifts into thought (he’s honestly curious about where she’s going with this).  “He could never…he’s not good with decisions.”

“Oh?”

“It took him four months to ask me out.  And it wasn’t because he was trying to impress me, or manipulate me, or whatever, the way you would,” (Dan should probably be offended by that, but it’s not like she’s _wrong_ ).  “He just wasn’t sure.  Or something.”

“If he didn’t know thirty seconds after he first met you, I don’t think he’s worth – ”

“That’s almost kind, Dan.  Which is why I know it’s not true.”

(It was) (and it wasn’t).  (He’d been planning to use Amy Brookheimer before he’d ever met her).  (But when he did meet her, he’d known he’d genuinely _enjoy_ it) (within thirty seconds).

“An erection either happens or it doesn’t Amy.  Kind of hard to mistake.”

“And there we go.  That’s the Dan Egan I know and…tolerate.  Knew he was in there somewhere.”

He nudged her with his shoulder.  “Admit it, you’ve missed me, haven’t you?”

Amy pauses, looking at him (eyes all wide and earnest), and says the last thing he’d expected.  “Maybe a little.”

She stood up, using his shoulder for leverage (she was slightly wobbly, but three tequila shots would do that to anyone).  When she was finally upright, Amy looked at him steadily (her hand was still on his shoulder, like she’d forgotten).

“It’s all right, Amy, I won’t tell anyone you’re in love with me.  It can be a secret just for us.”

She was smiling at him, half resigned, half affectionate, and she leaned forward, her hand sliding up to the back of his neck.

“You know, Dan,” she said, the tip of her thumb rubbing the short hairs at the back of his head, so they all stood on end against the skin of her fingers.  “It would be a lot easier to be nice to you, if you weren’t such a _dick_ about it all the time.”

“I know.  I make it really difficult sometimes.”  He’s smiling at her (and their faces are almost level), but he doesn’t think she’s caught the reference. 

And then Amy kisses his cheek.

She’s stepped back – away from him – almost before it’s happened, (and Dan’s kicking himself, because if he’d turned his head just a little there was an opportunity there) (and yes, he’d told himself he wouldn’t pursue it, but he’s not made of stone).

“Thanks for tonight,” she says, pulling her jacket on.  “Charge the drinks to Sidney.  Seems fair.”

“Since you’ll be giving me all that White House access.”

There’s a look on her face that Dan can’t quite read – part rueful, part fond, part…something else entirely. 

“Goodnight Dan.”

And then she’s gone. 

And the damnable part of it is, Dan’s as certain as he’s ever been of anything that she wasn’t _trying_ to turn him on.  She probably doesn’t even _know_. All those ‘oh did I just happen to breathe on your neck,’ ‘oh did I just happen to touch your skin’ moves are his style, not hers.  If she’d been propositioning him she’d have been more direct, less (un?)intentionally seductive. 

But.

Still.

When he leaves the bar, he calls Jane Regan in the Secretary of Health’s office.  She’s a good contact to have, now that he’s lobbying for food companies, they’ve been dating for a while…and she’s blonde.

(Amy would hate him for it, if she ever knew, but frankly, she’s the one who got him all wound up in the first place, so…)

(He takes Jane from behind, so he can keep up the illusion in his head.  He pictures the disgusted faces Amy would make if she knew, and somehow it makes it even better.)

(She’d hate him even more for that).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dan's head is a very unpleasant place to be sometimes.


	5. Chapter Five

The night Amy leaves the Meyer campaign, she doesn’t answer his calls.  (Or the day after).  (Or the day after that).

Dan eventually managed to get Mike on the phone, to find out what the fuck was going on over there.  (Well, actually, he’d gotten Sue first, who’d refused to tell him a damn thing).   It’s not exactly a surprise – Amy had snapped, finally worn down by Selina ignoring her advice and putting personal comfort above rational strategy.  (Because, deep-down, there was still a part of her that believed in things, no matter how much she tried to hide it).  (Which means she’ll find it even harder to bounce-back than he did).

Dan had seen it coming – or should have seen it coming, really – and he can’t say he’s surprised Selina’s managed to break two campaign managers in less than six months.  In fact, Amy’s breakdown is – paradoxically – good for his career, making Selina’s inability to keep senior staff look like a pattern rather than his personal fault.   (He doesn’t plan on mentioning this to her).

Sidney Purcell wants Amy – wants her badly enough that he’s actually pleasant – and thinks Dan is the perfect bait to catch her (or, more accurately, Dan had suggested it to him, and implied that he was the perfect bait).  Half the lobbying firms in DC will be looking for her, but KPM is the only one with a personal link, so…

But after the fourth day of radio silence, Sidney is starting to give him the side-eye, and Amy is still not picking up her fucking phone, so Dan texts her.

“Answer your phone or I will make Jonah stand outside your apartment half-naked and screaming your name.”

It’s not a remotely credible threat, but it seems to do the trick, because she calls him back.  (To be fair, she knows him well enough to realise he would absolutely follow through on it).

“What do you _want_?” she says, and she's trying to sound angry (and failing) (she's clearly miserable).

“To talk to you – that’s usually the purpose of a phone call.”

“If you're going to gloat, can you do it from a distance please?”

“That’s not why I’m calling you.”

She scoffs down the phone at him – a wordless sound of complete disbelief.  “Yeah?  Well then why _are_ you calling?”

“I owe you one.”

“What?”

“After London, after the data breach… turnabout is fair play.  And I can get you a job.” 

What he doesn’t say, is that he _wants_ Amy to come to work with him.  ( _He_ wants to be the one to introduce her to it, not some fuck from another firm).  (He wants to make fun of their awful clients and how moronic the whole lobbying industry is with _her_ ).  (And he _really_ wants to see how Erica will dress her).

There’s a silence from the other end of the phone, and then a faint sniff, and she says, “You really don’t owe me anything.”

“Can I have that in writing?”

“Sure.” 

She sounds so defeated – three weeks ago she would have told him to shove it, loudly and at length – and it’s this, more than anything that softens him.

“Come on, Ame, it’ll be fun.”

“Just because you enjoy something doesn’t mean I will.”

“So are you planning to spend the rest of your life as a hermit?  Because no one’s going to be impressed by your prolonged mourning process.”

She sighs, and Dan kind of wants to shake her (and would, if she was in the room).  _He’s_ actually trying to help her, he’s actually doing something _for her_ (unlike the rest of so-called team, who sat back and watched when Selina wore her down to nothing).  (They all claimed to be so much nicer than him, so much better, but in the end they were just as self-interested.  They hadn’t done a damn thing).

“Why would you even _want_ to help me?” 

She’s always so suspicious of him, and it warms his heart, because for the first time in the conversation, she sounds halfway normal.  “Well, Amy, you probably haven’t realised this, but you’re a hot ticket at the moment.”

“What?”

“Have you looked at your twitter mentions, or emails, or anything in the last few days?”

“No.”

“Too busy watching costume dramas I guess.”

“Fuck you, Dan.”

(He’s tempted to make a joke here – if she’s nice, they might – but resists the urge.  Besides, he’s always found it…amusing that Amy, one of the toughest political operators he knows, has such an unabashed, open love of Mr Darcy (of all people).   She’s about as far from a Jane Austen heroine as he can imagine – thank god).

“If you had looked, I suspect you’d see your phone has blown up with invitations.”

“Lobbying doesn’t interest me at all, Dan.”

“I know.  That’s why you should come lobby with _me_.  Everyone else will bore you, and this way you make a shitload of money.”

“You really overestimate how charming you are, you know that?”

“Maybe with other people.  Not with you.”  (And now he’s glad they’re on the phone, because she’d slap him for that if he was within reach.)  She doesn’t say anything for a long set of moments, and he prods at her.  “You know it’s true Amy.”

“I’ll think about it,” she finally says.  “When’s the meeting?”

Dan sets it up, and then they’re right back to how things had been before (a normal he hadn’t even realised he was used to).   Amy’s competitive (and that’s almost a relief), and (eventually) relaxed in a way she had never been as long as he’d known her, and Dan has time to date multiple women simultaneously, and still go for drinks with her at least once a week.  It’s perfect.

And if sometimes, when they’re at the bar, or in the car, or getting coffee, there’s this…pause, this space that’s filled with nothing but her looking at him, well that’s even better. 

(Sometimes he likes to think of Amy, alone at night, all hot and bothered thinking about him – he likes the idea of that a lot).  

(He wonders what she does, when she feels like that… he might wonder about it a little too much). 

Dan wonders if someday she’ll snap – drag him into her office, or finally kiss him in the bar, or just push him up against the car door and slide her tongue into his mouth. 

(And he’s wondered about the _ways_ she might snap a little too much too).   

He’s seen her looking at him after all, and no one has that much willpower, not really, she’ll have to give into it eventually.  (When she does, he’s going to take a _bite_ out of that lower lip of hers, he’s promised himself).

And she’ll _hate_ it.  She still half-hates him, and she wants to be above it, wants so much to be above it, and yet she _isn’t_.  (He loves it).  (The fact that she doesn’t _want_ to be attracted to him but can’t help herself honestly makes it better). 

He’s waiting for her to snap – hoping that she’ll snap – counting the days until she snaps – probably more than he should.

But then the election happens (and the electorate cluster-fuck the system, possibly by accident, possibly just to prove that they can), and Dan finds himself on a plane to Nevada.  It’s only a temporary fix, of course, and he doesn’t have the faintest clue what he’s going to do when he gets back to Washington, but… it’s something.  It’s a space in which he can start to figure all of this out (and there are a lot of opportunities to mingle with TV producers, which is a nice bonus).

Plus, it’s nice to know that, when faced with the prospect of potentially causing a constitutional crisis, he’s still the one Amy turns to.  (Doesn’t matter where she is or what she’s doing, she still wants _him_ ).  (The rest of Washington could be planning to burn him in effigy, and she’d still want him).

And then he fucks it all up.

Dan’s not sure which is worse, Amy being the one person who knew he was stupid enough to mix up CVS and CBS, or the look on her face when she figured it out.  (Or the crack in her voice).  (Or the way she had squared her shoulders and shrunk away from him).  (He fucking _hates_ when she does that). 

He’d almost rather she’d just yelled at him, or sworn at him, or hit him or even burst into tears, if she’d felt the need to (and Dan has never had any patience for weepy women), but he cannot _stand_ the way she contrives to ignore him.

Admittedly, it wouldn’t look like she was ignoring him to an outside observer, but they don’t know Amy like he does.  Oh, she’ll work with him, and strategize, and do all of that…but that’s it.  No drinks, no casual conversation when they drive places – over lunch she spends all her time checking emails and reading twitter (because the fucktards of the internet are so much more interesting than him?  Please).   And when he does try to talk to her, he just get endless jokes about pharmacies, and his inability to recognise them.

She has no right.  He doesn’t owe her a goddamn thing, she said so.  She’s the one with the job and the career lined up – when he goes back to DC, all he has is an empty apartment.

(She never particularly cared when he fucked for advancement before.  Dan doesn’t see why she’s so pissy just because it’s her sister).  (Or, well… no, no, he does see).  (It’s not like he didn’t _know_ she’d be upset). 

The martyrdom act frustrates him (can’t she just call him a scumbag and move on?) (it’s what she always did before), and when he gets back to DC, he’s so sick of her bullshit that he completely brushes off her suggestion that they… well, he doesn’t know what Amy was suggesting, because he interrupted her before she could finish the sentence.  She wants to ignore him for weeks on end, and then what, buy him a beer and pretend that was nothing?  Well fuck her.  Maybe he’ll go hang out with Sophie instead.

(Though actually, he never wants to see Sophie Brookheimer ever again in his life if he can help it.  He does not need to be _reminded_ of that big fat fucking failure).

And that’s it.  She never suggests it again, barely even looks at him if she can help it.

“ _I’m gonna go back to that room.  See you later._ ”

Sometimes Dan wonders if he’d missed his cue.  (He tries _not_ to wonder, because what’s the point?) (but still).  It unsettles him, and he tries not to think about it. 

If Amy had wanted something from him she should have been more direct (like Sophie).  It’s not his fault if he misread her stupidly passive signals – it’s not as though she’d been like that before, with Ed, or with him.

(But if Amy is shy and wary of him now, whose fault is that?)  (It only means she’s smart).

And really he’s being the stupid one because – as much as Dan might like the idea of Amy dragging him off by his tie to have her wicked way with him – he’s always known it was an unlikely fantasy. 

He _knows_ Amy.  He knows that – paradoxically – she’d been direct (blunt, actually) with him before (and with Ed, and probably with every other man, though he doesn’t like to think about that), because she was shy.  (About nothing else but this).  And that was when Dan was just some random staffer in a Congresswoman’s office – did he really imagine she’d be less shy when she actually _knew_ him, and what he was like? 

If something was ever going to happen between them, he was always going to be the one making the decisive move.  He _knows_ this.  Amy wouldn’t ever take the risk, not with him.  (However much he might occasionally want her to).

It’s a train of thought that Dan tries to avoid, because what if he _had_ missed his cue?  What if he’d knocked on her door that night?  (It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it).  Would it be better if Amy wasn’t speaking to him because he’d fucked her once and then…

Well, yes, of course it would be better, because he’d have fucked Amy and not her low-rent sister, but the end result would still have been the same.  Realistically, Dan can’t imagine a scenario involving himself, Amy and sex that _doesn’t_ end with her hating him. 

He really does try not to think about it.  (Or the way she’d smiled up at him outside her door) (like she couldn’t stop herself) (If he’d kissed her then…) (Or the ‘just rolled the dice’ look she’d had on her face when she walked away from the bar).  (Or what she’d meant when she said she never heard back from him).

“ _I’m gonna go back to that room.  See you later._ ”

There’s no point in thinking about it.  No point.  He needs not to.

It was bound to be a catastrofuck no matter what happened, and if Amy can’t see that – can’t work that out for herself – then she’s nowhere near as smart as he’d always thought she was.  She’s a political strategist for Christ sake, she’s supposed to be able to work out probabilities.  She needs to just get the fuck over it and get back to being normal again.

But she doesn’t.

Even when she comes to New Hampshire to help with the campaign, she’s still pretending to be distant (but two can play at that game).  (And he is a LOT better at playing it than she is).

There’s a moment – the night Jonah actually wins the election – (there are so many reasons Dan would be going to hell – if there were a hell – but he suspects getting Jonah elected would be top of the list) when she seems to soften. 

Amy actually looks happy for him.  She was the one who told him to take the job after all, and she knows what a difficult (impossibly difficult) job it was too, and she knows what it could do for his career. 

She’s actually smiling at him, and Dan suggests they all get drinks (he knows she won’t go for one with just him, not now, but maybe if they go as a team…) – he suggests they all get champagne (if this backwards place even has any) – and she starts humming and hawing in a way that means she’ll give in if he pushes enough…

And then the brunette from the night before walks by and winks at him, and Amy’s face changes – flattens – like the shutters have come back down. 

“I don’t think so,” she says, “I’ve had enough of Jonah _and_ his uncle hitting on me for one day.  Which, I know that was your suggestion, by the way.”  (Dan wants to laugh, because he didn’t think Jeff Kaine would actually ask her, but he – just – manages to swallow it).  Amy looks pissed – the kind of steaming, full-headed anger he… he hasn’t actually seen from her, not in a long time (at least, not directed at _him_ ).  “What,” she says, “was that supposed to humiliate me?  Like you haven’t –“

“Ms Brookheimer?” 

Someday Dan is actually going to _murder_ Richard T Splett (or J Splett) (Dan couldn’t give a fuck), because Amy looked like she was finally gearing up to have a proper fight with him, and he’d actually enjoy that, he’d be relieved that she was going to do it at long last, he’d be fucking _happy_ to get right down into it with her.

“What Richard?” she said, “What is it?”

He’s holding a bunch of flowers (not roses) (but flowers of some type), and he presents them to Amy, who looks at Richard, and then at Dan, and then back at the flowers.

“What the fuck is this?”

“They’re from Mr Buddy Calhoun.”

“What?” Amy says, as Dan asks, “The Nevada Secretary of State?”

“Yes, he,” Richard stops to push his glasses up (and Amy is still staring at him incredulously).  “He asked me to buy them for you.  No, he asked me to pick them up for you.  From the store where he’d ordered them.”

“I don’t… what?” Amy says, and Dan hasn’t seen her look that confused… ever (at least that he can think of).

“And there was a message.”  Richard says, and pulls out a sheet of paper.  Dan manages to grab it from him, before Amy can – her reaction time slowed by her confusion – and reads it out loud.  “Congratulations on the election – I was rooting for you.  If you need a break after all of that, why not come back to Nevada?  I’d love to see you again.  Buddy.”

 She yanks the page out of his hands, and keeps staring down at it as Richard says, “He asked me to deliver them in private, so… here you are.” 

“Yeah,” Amy says, “well done.  Remind me again how you wound up with _two_ PhDs?”

“Just lucky I guess,” Richard says, and wanders off (hopefully into traffic).

Amy keeps staring at the note, and Dan, losing patience, says, “Why is the Nevada Secretary of State sending you flowers, _Amy_?”

Her eyes snap back up to his, and she looks…she looks unnerved by his tone (and Dan realises that, whatever else, she genuinely was not expecting this, the confusion is real, she's not...trying to make a point). 

“Obviously I swore at him until he… until he…flowers, I mean, really?”

(One, Dan is not stupid.  No man sends a woman flowers because she said a funny thing to him once upon a time.  There’s a backstory here, and he didn’t know about it, and he doesn’t like that one bit).  (Two, Amy has definitely been in DC too long if she’s this thrown by an actual pleasant gesture).  (And three, the flat-out _girly_ look on her face is turning his stomach).

 She’s watching him – wary (probably expecting him to go ballistic, the way he absolutely did not when she was dating Ed) – but she’s still clutching the note, holding onto the flowers, and she…she _likes_ them, he can tell.

“Whatever,” he said, “I’ve got places to go, people to do.”

“Yeah, I know,” Amy says, and it’s flat again – she doesn’t sound angry, or hurt, or amused, or _anything_.  Just flat, like she’s agreeing with a factual statement he made.

“My room’s right next to yours, so… might want to invest in some earplugs tonight.”

Amy purses her lips in annoyance at that, and Dan decides it’s enough of a win, he’ll take it.  He walks away from her before she can respond.  He wants her to run after him, or scream at him, or something.

But she doesn’t.

And when he finally looks back, she’s reading that fucking note and actually smiling.

Fuck his life.


	6. Chapter Six

The morning of the Inauguration is clear and cold and damp, and Dan does not regret his position in the TV booth at all.  He can see everyone and everything and he doesn’t have to smile and pretend like his balls aren’t slowly succumbing to frostbite.

He can see Amy.  In fact, he sees Amy multiple times, as the producer keeps cutting back to her face, as though hinting at him to comment.

But he doesn’t.  Dan is going onwards and upwards and he plans to leave Amy Brookheimer and her snippy, passive-aggressive inability to say what she really wants far behind.  It’ll be a relief to move on to women who don’t know him.

But then he gets offered the CBS job, and while he’d been planning to ditch Ben’s tragic ‘Departing Administration’ drunks (for Elsa, the charming Danish journalist also covering the Inauguration), he kind of wants to see everyone’s faces when he tells them.

So he goes.

It’s the same pathetic old man bar Ben always drags them to (Dan hates it there – it smells of receding hairlines and settling), and Dan buys everyone a round of drinks, slaps Mike’s back like he doesn’t despise him, and brags.  No one is impressed.

And then Amy arrives.  She’s supposed to be going to one of the Inaugural Balls (with _Buddy_ ), and Dan expects that’s why she’s so overdressed.  She’s wearing this dark blue dress that…it drapes and ruches and Dan doesn’t really know what he’s looking at, but he knows he wants to run his hands down it.

She accepts the drink he buys her, and sits beside him (like always), and it’s almost – _almost_ – like it used to be.  She’s telling him how Selina kidnapped her (and Amy has got to be the only grown adult – in the world – that Selina can _physically_ force to do something), when Kent congratulates him on the new job.

And Amy’s face twitches.  “15 million people staring at you every night – sounds like all your orgasms have come at once.  Congratulations, I’m…I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, you look it.”

“Well, I’m trying,” she says, even if her face is stiff with annoyance.  (Unlike him, Amy’s spent almost her entire adult life working for Selina – bar a couple of campaigns for the Maryland governor – so he’s not surprised she feels adrift.)  “Anyway, I’m sure you don’t need me to give you confidence.”

“Never did before.”

Her answering smile is thin-lipped and tight, and there was a time (a short time, but it definitely happened) when she didn't look at him like that, not at all… and she gets up and goes to talk to Sue, and Dan buys himself another drink.

It’s about half an hour later when Dan sees her leave the bar, phone jammed against her ear, and he’s just drunk enough not to care that everyone will see him following her.  (But he still knocks his drink back first).

She’s talking when he gets outside, and he catches the tail-end of the conversation.  “No, it’s okay,” she says.  “You should go be with your Mom.”  She pauses, and Dan catches her eye.  “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.  There’ll be other balls.  Yeah, I’ll text you when I get home.  Bye.”

She hung up, but didn’t say anything, just shoved her phone back into her tiny little bag.  Finally, Dan broke the silence.  “Everything all right?”

“Buddy’s Mom, she… she had a fall.  She’s fine, just frail, but he’s going back to see her.”

Dan spied the tickets sticking out of her purse.  “Seems a shame to waste that dress.”

“It’s fine,” Amy says, crossing her arms over her chest.  She looked cold, and he was tempted, just for a moment, to give her his jacket (if only to see her face when he did), but somehow, he knew she wouldn’t take it.

“You know, I’m wearing a suit.  I could take you,” Dan says, surprising both himself and her.  (Because now that he’d thought of it – he _did_ want to take her – he wanted to walk into that sparkling room with her on his arm, and dance with her, and feel her champagne-loose body tucked against his when they left, and take her home and fuck her until the sun came up, and then buy her breakfast, and not only so he could fuck her some more).

“Come on, Amy,” he says, reaching out and running his knuckles slowly down one arm.  “It’ll be fun.  One last night.”  He waggled his eyebrows.

Perhaps she’s picturing what he’s picturing, because she stares up at him, her lips slightly parted (and striking the usually decently articulate Amy dumb is something to be proud of).  For a long moment all Dan can hear is the wind in the trees, and then Amy takes a deep breath (and they both listen to her exhale), and says, “Thanks but… no.  Besides,” and her lip curls, “I’m sure you have plans.”

“Yeah, I do, but…when have I ever cared about disappointing people?”

“Never,” Amy said.  “But somehow, even with that beautiful offer, still no.  You know, you used to be better at this.”

“No.  I wasn’t.  You were just younger then.”

She looked at him – through her eyelashes – and…it’s a little she’s looking at him for the first time all over again.  Only, back then her gaze had been cool and assessing, but now…

She swallows, and turns to hail a cab.  Unsurprisingly, one pulls up almost as soon as she’s raised her hand.  “You’re leaving?” he says, stupidly.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t…come on Amy, don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything, Dan, I’m going home.”

He wants to touch her (that’s mild – he wants to drag her back into the bar, by her hair, if needs be), but they’re interrupted by a clearly drunk couple walking between them.  Dan’s about to resume the conversation when the man stops, and wheels round.

“Amy Fucking Brookheimer,” he says, sticking a finger in her face, and Amy actually takes one careful step back from him (her back grazing the front of Dan’s jacket).  “Who knew we’d wind up here again?”

He’s so drunk it takes Dan a moment to realise that it’s Anthony Ward.  (Shabbier and drunker than Dan had ever seen him, mind).

“Mr Ward,” Amy spat out “And…whoever you are.”  (Ward’s date looked baffled, and also not a day over twenty-two, at the most).

“You’re not in the White House now.”

“I’m well aware.  Of course Mary King fired you, the way everyone fires you, for the exact same reason you always get fired –”

“That was your fault.”

“No,” Amy said, sounding grim, “It wasn’t.”  She drew out a small sheaf of business cards, holding them out to Ward’s date, “Here, take these.  You can give them to the rest of the interns.”

“You little bitch,” Ward said, knocking them out of her hand.  Amy stumbled at the impact, and Dan grabbed her shoulders – automatically – to steady her.  She showed no sign of noticing.

“I don’t forget anything,” Ward said, and there was a calculating look on his face that Dan recognised from his own.  “You’re not in the White House now.”

“Go home.  This won’t help you.”

And miraculously, he did – or at least, he stumbled away, date firmly in-hand – and Amy let out a long slow breath, before stepping away from Dan.

“Everything all right there?” the (forgotten) cab driver says, before Dan can ask her what the fuck all that was about.

“Yeah,” she says, “Just give me one more minute.”

Amy turns to face him, and Dan can tell, even after that sinister little scene, she’s not going to tell him a damn thing (but she’ll probably tell _Buddy_ ).  “You know,” she said, “Despite everything… I’m glad you finally got something you wanted.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  The women of the world will be safer,” she says, and then she stretches up to kiss his cheek (only, he’s so startled, he doesn’t bend at all to help her, so it lands more on his jaw).  She rubs the traces of lipstick away with her thumb, and he raises an eyebrow.  “You said you had plans.  You don’t care, but I know I wouldn’t like if you showed up… never mind.”   He grabs her hand (well, more her fingers), and she says quickly.  “So… Goodbye, Dan.”

And then she hops in the cab, before he can anything, and she’s gone.

Which…goodbye?  She doesn’t get to say goodbye.  _He’s_ the one moving on to bigger and better things, _she_ doesn’t get to pretend she’s drawing a line under it or whatever, that’s garbage.  Her pseudo-sorry tone, that’s nonsense, she doesn’t get to act like that, no way, that’s not…

Dan goes back into the bar, orders a double, and polishes it off so he can immediately order another.  He’s glaring at everyone, and Ben’s the only one brave enough to ask.  “Was that Tony Ward out there?”  Dan nods.  “Amy okay?”

“Yeah.  Why wouldn’t she – wait, you know why she wouldn’t be?”

Ben sighs his same tragic failed man sigh.  “Yeah, Dan, I know.  Amy wept on my shoulder about it, just like she did over all the shit you’ve pulled.”

“Seriously?”  It’s unlikely, but not impossible.

“No dipshit.  Selina knows, so I know, and that’s all you get.”  Ben looks at him with his usual, barely veiled, contempt.  “You know, if you want something from Amy, you should really just ask.  Because I can promise you cupcake, after you fucked her sister, she is never, ever going to ask you.”  Ben pauses, sizing Dan up.  “It’s a good thing you’re going into TV – you still haven’t learned to think more than one step ahead.”

“Can you get to the point, if you even have one?”  The old man of the sea act is wearing on his last fucking nerve.

“You know,” Ben says, “Despite what you love to believe, I really don’t miss your age.  You’re still so full of goddamn spunk you can’t think straight.”

“Whereas you lost all yours, oh six administrations ago?”

“You had her, you pint-pot dickface, you had her exactly where you have really, _really_ blatantly always wanted her, and surprise, surprise, you couldn’t keep your head straight long enough –”

“To what?”

“You think it was me she meant to booty-call in Nevada, fifty times or whatever it was?  The girl’s been desperate, but she’s not that tragic.”

He’s so startled, Dan knocks back the rest of his drink to avoid having to answer.  But even as he does so, he’s already putting it together.  It had to have been that same night.  (Even he’s not arrogant enough to think she would _ever_ have done it once she knew).  They’d had a few drinks – more than enough to explain that kind of stupid mistake – enough drinks that she’d felt brave, or reckless, or whatever, for once and he’d…

Amy thought he’d got the messages.  Or she had thought that, for a while.  (She definitely had initially, he remembered). (The fact that he hadn’t tormented her about them even a little probably clued her in that something had gone awry).

Amy thought he’d _chosen_ to go with Sophie, over _her_.  (Which, well in a way he had.  But not _that_ way).

In the ten or so seconds it takes him to figure this all out, Dan sees her coat lying forgotten over a chair.  He’s about to pick it up, when Ben says, “So we’re clear, I’m not telling you this because I like you.”

“Yeah, the Furlong-level insults definitely made it seem like a possibility.”

“You’re not clever.  You write one good speech and you think it makes you someone, when really, you’re only intermittently useful.  It would be my very genuine pleasure to slap the shit out of you someday.  But Amy’s a natural – and if she marries some fucking hick and leaves DC because of you… well _I_ won’t care.  But it would be bad for the party.”

“Whatever,” Dan says, grabbing Amy’s coat.  She’s always been Ben’s little princess, and everyone knows it.  (And Amy _loves_ DC, she’ll never leave). 

He gets a taxi to her place – he doesn’t bother to say goodbye to the others, in six months he won’t even remember their faces – and it’s only when he’s on her doorstep that he realises… he doesn’t know what he’s going to say.  He’s _pissed_ at her for that ‘Goodbye’ nonsense, and he’s exhilarated by what Ben had told him (not that he hadn’t always _known_ Amy wanted him), and and and he’s thrown by the idea that she might actually _marry_ someone called Buddy…  
  
And he’s nervous about talking to her.  He hasn’t been nervous around a woman since he grew proper shoulders.

But Amy’s “What the fuck are you doing here?” when she opens the door steadies him nicely, and he walks in with his usual bravado.

“Delighted to see you too Ame.”

“Why are you here now go away.”

He sits on the armrest of her couch and holds her coat up so she can see it.  “You left this behind.  Besides, pumpkin, I know you didn’t think we were never going to see each other again.”

“Thought?  No.  Hoped?  Maybe.”

Amy looks like she wants to gut him – it’s hot, and he’s about to tell her so, when there’s a knock on the door.  Amy jumps at the sound, but when she looks through the peephole, her shoulders slump down in relaxation.  It’s only when Buddy Calhoun walks in (carrying a bottle of wine and…a pizza box?) that Dan realises why. 

Amy takes the pizza from him, seemingly automatically, and then puts it down on the table, as Buddy says, “I had some time before my flight, so… I thought the least I could do was buy you dinner.”  Dan had barely remembered the man, but he had a smooth, even tone, and his next sentence proved he wasn’t stupid.  “I didn’t mean to interrupt – I didn’t realise you’d have company.”

Amy flushed.  “No, Dan was just… Dan’s just dropping off my coat.  He’s not staying.”

“Actually,” Dan says, and he can’t help it, he enjoys the look of pure irritation on her face.  “Would you mind if I used your bathroom?”

“Of course not.  It’s through –”

“I remember,” he says, and the expression on Amy’s face is practically murderous.

He takes his time – and he may lurk in the corridor for a moment, but only so he can eavesdrop on their conversation.  Unsurprisingly, they’re talking about him.

“I had no idea he was going to show up,” Amy says and she sounds tense (more so than usual).

“Really?” Buddy says.  “Because if I’d just realised I wouldn’t get to see you anymore, this is exactly where I’d be.”

“He hasn’t realised anything of the kind – he just wants to…show off some more.”

“Are you sure?” Buddy says, and the man’s voice is so _understanding_ it’s obscene.  “You know you can tell me anything.”

“There’s nothing to tell – he’s just a colleague.  And you need to catch your flight.”

There’s a sound of a kiss, and then the door closes, and when Dan saunters back into Amy’s view, Buddy is gone.  “Didn’t want to tell him we’d dated, huh?” he says, letting his eyes roam all over her body.

“It’s not a thing I like to admit in public if I can possibly avoid it, no.”  But she won’t look at him when she speaks, and he knows it’s horseshit.

“I suppose he would find me quite threatening.”

“Buddy’s a human man, and you are a rodent, so no, I don’t think he would.” 

Whatever, she’d wanted Dan longer than she’d wanted Buddy, and he was willing to bet she’d wanted him _more._   Amy threw her hands up in exasperation.  “What do you want?”

He gives her his most lascivious look (and he does have _quite_ the repertoire).  “Can’t you guess?”

“No.  And the fact that I asked should have been your first clue.”

Amy’s body and her voice don’t match – she’s practically vibrating with tension, but she sounds…weary.  Drained. 

And Dan realises…he’s lost the upper hand.  He lost the upper hand the moment he walked through the door.  Because while he _could_ push her – he _could_ force the issue – but when she looks like that, all wound-up and wrung-out and tight and and and _pained_ … He doesn’t want to.

He should – he should have a glorious shouting match with her, she’s been a bitch-and-a-half for weeks, she’s given him nothing but shit… and right now, she looks _afraid_ of him.  Afraid that that’s exactly what he’ll do.

It’s all wrong.  What was he going to do… kiss her?  Throw her over his shoulder?  Tell her he’d figured it all out (figured _what_ out)?

Well yes, that’s what he’d hoped to do.  Kiss her and shout at her and argue with her and at some point finally get the chance to suck that lower lip of hers…

But he can’t do it.  Amy’s body language is all hunched and protective, like she’s expecting a blow, and she… she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.  If she knew, she’d be trying to hide it, and had he really not _noticed_ this before?

Jesus fucking Christ.  Does Amy… does she have actual feelings for him?

Dan feels twitchy, and panicky, like he needs to sit down, and Amy keeps looking at him with those wary eyes (which only makes it worse), so he goes with the only question he can think of.  “What was that goodbye shit?”

“What?  It’s a word asshole.”

“Yeah.  One you made a huge production of.”

“Don’t you have a 10 somewhere to go and traumatise?”  
  
“Yeah.”  He’s looking at her.

“So,” Amy flaps her hands, “Shouldn’t you be, you know –”

“Later,” he says.  “I want to know what you meant first.”

“I meant goodbye, Dan.  Does it even matter?” Amy’s trying to sound as dismissive as an angry person can, and he realises… she is putting everything she has into warding him off.  She’s been doing it for _months_ …

Somewhere low inside, a place he doesn’t remember exists most of the time, he feels like he’s been throat-punched.  She thinks he’s going to hurt her.  She had always thought he would hurt her again, and...she was right. 

Dan had always, as long as he lived, just categorically _despised_ men who hurt women, who harassed them and abused them and… but in Amy’s eyes what was the difference?  As far as she knew, he’d hurt her just because he could. 

And the idea of her putting him in the same category as those kind of men… it was insulting (it was more than insulting – it bothered him in a way he couldn’t entirely articulate, even to himself).

He swallowed and said, “Just wanted to check you’re not going to blank me every time we meet.”

“We don’t work together any more – it’s not going to happen all that often.”

“And when it does?”

“Well, when it does I’ll speak to you, happy?  Did you really come all the way here, and interrupt my almost pleasant evening, for that?”

“No,” Dan says, and he’s feeling the weight of all those whiskeys now.  “I wanted to say… you were a great partner.”

“Thanks, I know,” Amy says, and the way she raises her eyebrows at him is so _her_ he almost laughs (with relief).  She keeps looking at him, as though expecting something, and Dan realises he’s still staring at her – he’s making it weird – but he can’t understand…

 _How_ could she ever forget what a shitstain he is for long enough to feel…anything for him?  How could she have been so _stupid_?  Doesn't she  _remember_?

Finally, she huffs out a noise and walks into the kitchen.  She returns with a plate, removes three slices of pizza from the box and puts them on it, closes the box and then thrusts it in to his hands.  “There,” she says.  “Line your stomach.  And maybe go home and sleep off whatever head injury is bringing this on.”

He tries to give it back, and she pushes it further into his hands.  “Why not get me a plate, I can eat it with you?  You don't want all that wine yourself.”

“No,” Amy says, and she grabs his shirt in her fists and starts pushing him towards the door.  “I don’t want it here, and I don’t want _you_ here.  Get out.”

She’s surprisingly strong, and pushes him further than he would have expected she could.  “Come on,” he said, “I can –”

“I would really rather you just take it away.”

Something in the way she words that sentence throws him, and he looks at her narrowly for a moment… which clearly causes her to lose patience, because she opens the door and tries to shove him out.

“Go home,” she says.  “Leave me in peace.”

“Let me buy you brunch next week.”

“Will you _leave_ if I say yes?”

He nods.  “Then fine.  Now get the fuck out of my house.”

And he does.  Dan goes home, and he eats the pizza (it’s good), and when Elsa from the press pack rings his bell he lets her in… and it’s only after, when he’s lying in the darkness (alone, blessedly, because she had an early morning flight), that his thoughts slow down enough to let him think.

Amy… Amy loves him.  Actually loves him.

…

In god’s name _why?_


	7. Chapter Seven

Shame is a profoundly useless emotion, which is why Dan never wastes his time feeling it. 

So figuring out that Amy is in love with him and has (quite rationally) decided that the sensible response to this is to cut him out of her life permanently, doesn’t send Dan into some kind of guilt spiral.  He knew what he’d done – he’d done it with open eyes, and there was no point in trying to undo it now.

Amy is even more ruthless than he is, when she has to be, and Dan doesn’t doubt that, if provoked, she’ll follow through on her plan and just refuse to see him altogether.

Or, marry Buddy Calhoun.

Ever since Ben had said it, Dan had not been able to stop thinking about it.  Obviously, it would never happen, she would never leave DC, the place is her lifeblood.  But Ben seemed to think she might.  Ben seemed to think that if Dan fucked up one more time, she wouldn’t just get angry, or spread nasty rumours about him, or ignore him for a while… she’d _leave_.

He shouldn’t think about it.  It unsettles him. 

But he does.

So he takes her to brunch, once a month, and he talks to her, and he doesn’t brag about other women any more, and he doesn’t mention Sophie, and… well obviously he insults her on average every three minutes, but that’s par for the course, that’s fine.  He pretends to be interested in the book she’s writing – a history of female staffers – and even congratulates her when she lands an interview with Peggy Noonan.

If it’s weirdly subdued – for them – who cares, no one else is around to witness it.  And it’s not just him – Amy never mentions Buddy (though one weekend she is bizarrely relaxed, and he deduces it’s because she’s been in Nevada), and she only implies he’s inhuman half the time, and… Dan realises she doesn’t want to provoke a fight either.  It’s unnatural.

But he wants her to stay, more than…more than he wants to fight with her, more than he wants to fuck her even.  So he sets his mind to the one thing he can do to ensure she doesn’t leave.  Breaking up her and Buddy.

Only, the man seems irritatingly flawless.  Dan muscles in on a few of their dates, and discovers that Buddy is kind, and courtly in how he treats Amy, and completely unruffled whenever Dan shows up.  It’s almost a personal insult.  (And if Amy always seems to finish her drink in fifteen seconds flat and remember that they have to be somewhere else when he does this, that’s another matter).

This…aggravating state of affairs continues for months, until Dan feels like he might crawl out of his skin whenever he sees her.  She’s being so damn _nice_ , he hates it (and _he’s_ being nice which is, if anything, even worse).  Can’t she just forgive him already, and maybe move in with him so he can talk to her every day?  (Amy’s a slob too, so she won’t mind his untidiness – though the other girlfriends might be a sticking point).

And then the book is published.

A tell-all – Inside the Meyer White House – written by someone who, if Dan’s any judge, never set foot there. 

In mid-August, when there’s not a damn thing happening in Washington and not a drop of news anywhere.  And while most of the allegations are either ancient history (no one gives a single soggy shit about Bill Ericson any more) or so outlandish that no one would believe them (Ben and Kent’s torrid love affair didn’t ‘tear the White House apart,’ thank _god_ ) there’s one – just one – that gains traction.

Two days after it’s published, Amy’s lifelong struggle with bulimia is national news – alongside the implication that she, as a practicing lunatic – spent all her time in the White House throwing up and was thus, somehow, responsible for every single thing that went wrong in the Meyer administration.

Dan really hates the press sometimes.

And Amy… Amy doesn’t do anything about it, that he can see.  (She’s always been terrible at defending _herself_ ).  She also ignores his calls (and this is becoming a really tiresome tradition), and won't open the door when he knocks.  Eventually Dan calls Sue, and it’s almost a relief to find out he’s not the only one being ignored.

When it hits the headlines for the third day running – along with a snotty editorial in the Post suggesting that hiring Amy demonstrated former President Meyer’s “fundamental and ongoing lack of good judgement, so disappointing in the first female President” – he gets a phone call from Selina.

“Dan, how are you,” she says, with that tone she uses when she’s trying to be charming.  “I know you don’t work for me any more – but would you consider _handling_ this thing with Amy?  I’d consider it a personal favour – for my legacy, you know.”

“Of course, glad to do it,” he says (his thoughts had been tending that direction anyway).

“And if you could nail that fucker Ward’s dick to a wall, that’d be great too.”

“All part of the service ma’am.”

Dan doesn’t know what exactly what she means, until he rereads the introduction, and sees Ward credited as a research ‘partner,’ whatever the fuck that was.  (Well, he knew what it was – some pathetic revenge scheme dreamt up by a man who couldn’t get any woman with a fully adult brain to touch his dick).

He makes a few calls – and then a few more – and before you know it, he’s arranged for two dozen statements of support to come out at noon the next day.  (Mostly from party elders.  And Jonah).  He pats himself on the back and texts Amy, telling her to call him on Selina’s orders – and then he goes to his actual job.

Where he gets asked, on air, if he thinks “Amy Brookheimer was stable enough for the responsibilities of her position?” 

He should have been expecting it – and the bow-tied, quisling fuck who asked him is smirking – but… well, it’s not a problem.  He knows exactly what to say.

He smiles his widest, most tv anchor smile, and says, doing his best to sound sincere and like an actual human, “I think if you look at every good thing done by the Meyer administration, you’ll find Amy Brookheimer right at the heart of it.  And what’s more, I’m _appalled_ that we’re even discussing this.  When the White House accidentally participated in the leaking of medical data, we’re were _rightly_ raked over the coals.  And yet an entire industry of journalists – supposedly reputable journalists – is openly speculating about the state of Amy Brookheimer’s health.”

The anchor coughed, “Well, clearly you have strong feelings about this, Dan, but –”

“You’re damn right, I do,” and he allows the anger he’s been feeling for months (about the press, about Amy, about fucking _Buddy_ ) to show through.  “I consider Amy a personal friend.  But I also spent a long time working with her, and with President Meyer, and I saw the criticism they were subjected to, by the press, criticism no man would _ever_ have had to deal with – I certainly didn’t.  Of course they’re both strong, intelligent women, and they didn’t waste their time complaining about the sexism they had to face, even when it was blatant as this, because it’s endemic.”

“Amy has had to put up with endless bullshit from the press, and I had a front row seat for all of it, so you’re right, I am angry.  And I’m particularly angry that anyone would _dare_ imply that if there’s a grain of truth in this – if Amy did ever struggle with bulimia, at any time in her life– that she should be held up as anything but a role model, for the tens of thousands of young women and girls across this country who are facing that very same fight right now.  They deserve to know that they _can_ fight it, they can win, and if they work hard enough they can become one of the most intelligent, capable and brilliant women in the world.  And also, not for nothing, hot as all hell.  _You_ should all be calling her an inspiration, not speculating about her mental health.”

When Dan sits back in his seat he tries not to grin.  (It would rather undermine his message).  (But it’s hard, because, _damn_ , he enjoyed that). The entire studio has gone silent, and the anchor is staring at him in shock, and for a moment, Dan considers just walking off the set… but that would make him look emotional, and that’s not what he wants.  For this to land right, he needs to look like he’s made a forceful feminist point, not like he’s lost his shit on national television. 

The anchor calls for an ad break, and the moment it comes a bubble of conversation breaks out.  Dan ignores them – if this is going to be a viral hit, he needs people to promote it, so he writes a quick email and sends it to everyone who’s already agreed to give a statement.  (And he emails former Senator Blouser too, because…he has a feeling).

When the producer asks if he’d mind stepping out for the rest of the show, he accepts it with good grace (he knows, once the internet reaction has set in, they’ll be begging for him to come back).  (Even if his on-air swearing is going to cost them in fines).

He spends a couple of hours in his dressing room – calling in favours, and tracking down the head of a charity specialising in eating disorders (who eventually agrees to issue a statement the next day, when he tells her that he knows Amy’s always been an admirer of hers).

And when he goes home, to his complete lack of surprise, Amy is sitting on his doorstep. 

She looks drained… she’s wearing jeans and a striped tee-shirt, and in the evening twilight, with her hair in a pony-tail, she could easily pass for a college student (albeit an exhausted college student).  She stares up at him for a long moment, until Dan loses patience and extends a hand to pull her up.  If she’s going to act tragic, he’s not in the mood.

“Come to give me my “This is what a Feminist looks like” tee shirt, sweetheart?  Cause I already have three.”

“I bet you use them to mop up stains,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “Sue called me.  And then my Mom.  Apparently you’re a viral hit.”

“Well that was the plan,” Dan said, unlocking his door.

“Yeah, I assumed,” Amy said, and she doesn’t follow him into the apartment, but hovers at the door, her indecision irritating him.  “I just don’t understand… _why_?”

“You know perfectly well why, Ame.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.  Now come the fuck in and I’ll get you a drink.”

Amy keeps looking at him, clearly still wavering, and Dan is about to walk over and _pull_ her when she finally nods, and closes the door behind her.  She perches on his sofa (right on the edge, as though she might take flight), and he gets them both a beer from his fridge.

“First time you’ve left your house in what, four days?”

“Five actually.  They sent me an advance copy,” she said, looking at the beer in her hand.  “I didn’t… I wasn’t expecting this.  I thought it was all behind me, and over and… I didn’t know what to say.”

“Clearly, or you would have had a strategy prepared to deal with it.  You were a damn terrier for Selina, but when it’s you… anyway, it doesn’t matter, I’m taking care of it.”

“You are?”

“All part of the service.”

There’s a long pause, and she stares at him, (and she looks so _young_ right now, it’s all wrong – he likes her face fierce and lived-in, not vulnerable like this).  “Why aren’t you asking me?”

“Asking what?”  He leans back and takes a long, indecent slurp.

“Everyone else is.  Buddy can’t stop asking me – only he won’t come out and ask the question, he just dances around it – and my Mom won’t stop calling, even _Sophie’s_ worried I’m going to… why aren’t you asking?”

“If it’s true?”  Amy nods, and Dan all but growls at her.  “What do you think I am, _stupid_?”

“No, what does –”

“Did you really think for one second I didn’t already know?”  Amy’s mouth is wide open, and at any other time he’d make a joke about it, but he continues on regardless.  “You repress every damn thing, you have a desperate need for control, Sue used to get on your case every time she saw you ‘stress eating’ and… when we fucked that one time, you got all weird about me seeing your body which, by the way, was and is ridiculous.”

She’s actually gone white, and she leans back – correction, leans away from him – against the cushions.  It takes her a moment, but she eventually says, trying to sound forceful, bless her, (her voice only shakes a little), “How long?”

“I don’t know,” Dan says, honestly.  “I put it all together sometime.  Don’t look at me like I killed your fish, I don’t give a fuck, Amy.”

She recoils, further, if that’s possible.  “You don’t?”

He is not in the mood for to coddle her – she should have been on this already.  “The only reason it would matter to me,” he says, “is if it was still an issue – in which case, I’ll take you to the therapist or whatever myself and fucking sit on you until you go in.”

“It’s not,” Amy says, through gritted teeth.

“All right then.”

She might be trying to look wounded, but Amy doesn’t need people fluttering around her being caring or whatever (Dan’s willing to bet that’s exactly what _Buddy_ did, which is why she came to Dan’s door and not his).  She needs someone to remind her who she is.

“Now,” Dan says, “Tell me about this Ward fuck.”

“Why?”

“So I can find him and kill him, that’s why.” 

Amy raises her eyebrows at him for that, and he shakes his head back at her (she knows what he meant).  She slips off her shoes and pulls her legs up so she’s hugging her knees.

“It was…back when I first came to Washington.”

“When you interned for Blouser, right?”

“Yeah.  On the Senate environment committee – I was a general assistant.  And Ward was the…chief of staff to the chair.  So he got to select all the new interns.”

“Right.”

“He’s the one who interviewed me.  And he knew about… he knew I had to go to an appointment every week – I was still… I was still occasionally relapsing then – and I guess he worked out why.  Anyway, all the interns were young and female and…”

“And, what, did you fuck him?”

“ _No_ , Jesus Dan, can’t you just…that’s not what it was.”

“All right,” he says, holding his hands up.  “Tell me.”

She looks at the floor, as she speaks.  “I made a mistake – I sent the wrong set of papers to someone or something, you know I don’t even remember what it was?  And, the Chair was angry – at least, Ward _told_ me he was angry, and he also told me, that if I wanted to keep my job, there was a really simple way to do it.  Just like sucking a lollipop, that’s what he said.”  Her hands are clenched into fists against her knees.  “Anyway, I told him to fuck off, and I told Blouser what he’d said, and she tried to stand up for me, but…the Chair wouldn’t hear it.  Even when we got testimony from two other interns, it didn’t matter, he always had some story, how I’d made it up or something.”

“So what happened?”

“I lost my job,” Amy said, sounding surprised that he’d had to ask.  “I went back to Maryland and worked for the Governor for a while, but it didn’t seem like I could ever get back to DC.  I was blacklisted, I couldn’t even get interviews.  Trouble-maker.  And working in Washington was all I’d ever wanted.”

“Well obviously you got back.”

“Because Senator Dick McFuckface lost his seat in the midterms, and so did Blouser, but she… she’d recommended me to Selina, said I had guts.  And Selina headhunted me.  I don’t know if she actually knows the whole –”

“Given that she basically asked me to castrate Ward with a blunt knife, I think it’s safe to say she knows.”  (She’d even taken steps to prevent Amy from ever having to be alone in a room with him again – all that time ago – and Selina was almost never protective of anyone who wasn’t Selina).

“Well, he was supposed to be selected for a Congressional district, and he wasn’t… and I guess he blames me.  Though how he knew I was the one who sent a copy of all the testimony to the selection committee, I don’t know.  Guess someone told him – someone always talks.”

“Well good for you,” Dan said, “I’m glad his career got fucked.  Jesus, you must have been a _baby_.” (Amy still had something of a soft girl’s face _now_ – which could lead you astray, because she was no innocent – but what she must have been like then…)

“Not far off, and you’ve seen him – he likes them young.  But I…I actually thought if I told someone, they’d do something about it.”

“They fucking should have.”

For the first time, Amy relaxes her death grip hands.  “I’ve never understood how…you’re always so _surprised_ when something like this happens.  Which, for someone who’s been in DC as long as you have is just –”

Dan stretches out his arm along the back of the sofa, and says, “I guess I’ve never seen the appeal.”  He strokes a finger along the skin of her neck.  “Nothing better than a woman who actually wants you.”

It’s only his fingertip that’s touching her, but Amy goes still immediately, staring at him, wide-eyed.  Finally, she sits up (away from him), and says, “Why did you do it?”

“You know why.”

“No, I… I don’t, Dan.  There’s no possible benefit to you.”

“Yes, there is.”

“Somehow I don’t think you get off on being the protector of women that much…”

All right fine, if she doesn’t want to see it, that’s on her.  “Sure I do,” he says.  “Now help me with these statements.”

It’s right back to normal – the two of them bickering about how to present an issue to the public, same as always.  Amy won’t let him force Jonah to say he bitterly regrets that he wasn’t the kind of man Amy could ever love (if only because she doesn’t want to admit to having been forced to go on a date with him, which is fair), but, while he takes the defeat with his usual lack of grace, Dan does get her to give him a copy of the testimony she’d prepared against Ward all those years ago. 

He can still be a dick about it though, and he (finally) manages to convince her to let him set-up some sob-story, hand-job interview with a friendly face at CBS.  If she owns the story, owns her heroic triumph over adversity, she can come out of this smelling like a rose (and Dan has other plans, but he’s not going to tell her those.  Since they involve digging up those interns who’d recanted their testimony all that time ago and forcing them to accuse Ward all over again… well, he thinks she would feel obliged to have scruples).

He’s missed this.

It’s late by the time they’ve finished, and he walks her to her car.  Amy keeps looking at him – little side glances that he’s not supposed to see – and he’s relieved when she finally works up the nerve to ask whatever’s bugging her.  “You knew,” she said, “All this time.  For years.”

“Yeah.”

“And you never… you never used it.”

“Come the fuck on – I have _some_ standards.”

“No, you _don’t_ ,” she says, like he’s trying to fool her.

“I might as well ask why you never used my breakdown against me.”

She looks stricken for a moment, and then says shakily, “Well, I didn’t have to.”

“I know, everyone else did it for you, but…still.  You wouldn’t have crossed that line.”

“No,” she says, “I wouldn’t.”

“Then you don’t need to ask why.”

Amy nods, and then she stares at the ground, fiddling with her car keys.  She bites her lip for a moment, and then she looks up at him.  “Despite everything you’ve said… I _know_ you didn’t have to do this.”

“Amy –” he starts, but never finishes, because she kisses him squarely on the mouth.  It’s not a peck, it’s a real kiss, though nothing she’d ashamed to tell her mother.  But still, he can all but taste the honey of her mouth, and her body is so _soft_ everywhere it’s touching his…

She pulls away long before he’s ready (it was two seconds – ten – twenty?), and he opens his mouth to say… he’s not sure what, and she shakes her head.  “Whatever asshole thing you’re about to come out with?  Can it.”

“Then I got nothing.”

“I know,” she said, dimpling her smile at him.  “ _Thank_ you, Dan.” 

And she gets in her car, and drives home, and Dan can get to work on his other little side project.

* * *

The next morning, at noon, statements of public support for Amy Brookheimer come out from Governor Chung, Former VP Doyle, Former President Meyer, Congressman Ryan, Congressman Pierce, Senator Hallows, and Senator Tom James (Dan is particularly proud of that one). 

Four hours later, former Senator Blouser shocks the nation by explaining that Tony Ward, the menace behind the book, had been accused of sexual harassment by a number of interns on the environmental development committee, that Amy Brookheimer had been the first whistle-blower, and that, while the other women had dropped their statements at the time, they were now willing to come forward.  (She didn’t have to say this was because Ward was no longer in a position to ruin their careers).  Congressman Furlong follows swiftly on her coattails, declaring that, in light of these appalling allegations, he’s going to open an investigation into the abuse of House and Senate staff (and none of the journalists openly laugh at him).

It’s the kind of news cycle that comes but once a year, and between the shock and horror being expressed on both sides of the aisle, the Democrats desperate to jump on the positive news story bandwagon, and the pundits shaking their heads seriously because this whole story illustrates everything that’s wrong with politics in the modern age, the national sport of kicking Amy Brookheimer to pieces has finally come to an end.

It’s probably the finest piece of work of Dan’s career thus far, and when Amy calls him and offers to buy him dinner as a thank you, he accepts.

She’s clearly still thrown by his apparent altruism (which is almost funny) (because he _does_ have an angle, and it surprises him that she somehow can’t see it) (she _knows_ him, she knows he always has one), but she buys him a steak and drinks three or four glasses of wine, and even if she is trying to work him out all evening, it’s still more fun than he’s had in a long time.

(Plus, he knows where this is going, and honestly, he never thought it would be this easy).

The restaurant was near Amy’s apartment, and Dan walked her home, letting one hand float over her lower back.  She turns to him when they get to her door, and there’s this pause, like she’s expecting something from him (and she’s not wrong, but she hasn’t been looking around her, so her expectations are off). 

Dan lets one of his hands rest on her shoulder (she’s wearing a sleeveless dress and her skin is slightly clammy in the summer heat), and Amy slants her chin at him, like she’s wondering if he’ll repeat her manoeuvre of the night before.

But unlike Amy, he’s not interested in sweet little kisses, so he runs his hand up the back of her neck and pulls her in, too forceful and too quick for her to let out anything beyond a surprised little squeak.  But he’s glad for that – it means her mouth is already open – and she doesn’t resist, she lets him in all the way, she presses herself closer to him even, spreads her fingers out over his shirt, and she tastes of red wine and her own sweetness. 

(He should have done this years ago).

(How such a filthy, bitter little tongue can taste so sweet to him is another matter entirely).

Dan sucks her lower lip between his own (he’s been wanting to do that for _so fucking long_ ), and Amy makes a kind of strangled moan sound, low in her throat.  He rests his forehead against hers for half a moment before pulling back (he doesn’t _want_ to, but he has a plan here), and, because he knows something she doesn’t, he starts to smirk.

Amy’s hands are still pressed flat against his chest, and she’s breathing heavily, staring up at him, eyes heavy-lidded (but indecisive, still, he can see it – even if what was about to happen, wasn’t about to happen, he still wouldn’t be invited upstairs).

Dan’s hands are still resting on her hips, and she all but jumps out of his arms when she hears Buddy’s voice saying, “Amy?”

Because Buddy Calhoun had been standing no more than fifteen feet away, and she hadn’t even seen him.  (Dan kind of wants to punch the air, because he’d been hoping for an opportunity like this for months, but he restrains himself.  Just).

“What’s going on Amy?”

“Buddy, I… I was not expecting to see you,” and she’s fumbling even more than Dan had hoped.

“Evidently.”

“This isn’t… this isn’t what you think.”

And Dan can’t help himself.  “If he thinks it’s you moaning like a cat in heat because I stuck my tongue down your throat, he’s not wrong.”

Amy looks like she wants to kill him (as though _that_ look could scare him anymore, he’d received it on average three times a day), and Buddy said (and the depth of sincere emotion that man can get into his voice is just sick), “I offered to come out here three days ago, and you said you didn’t want to see anyone, you said you didn’t need help.”

“I _didn’t_ , I wouldn’t even talk to my Mom, it’s not –”

“But you’ll talk to him.  You’ll let him help you fight them off.  And you told me he was only a colleague.”

“Well,” Dan says, shit-eating grin firmly in place, “That and we used to date, right Amy?”

The expression of sheer rage on her face is a pleasure to behold, and she’s sputtering, trying to get words out, and Buddy obviously has even less patience for that than Dan does, because he interrupts her.  “You weren’t ever going to move out of Washington, were you?”

“No, that’s…I don’t know.  Maybe not, but not because of him, he’s not… this isn’t… this _just_ happened, Buddy.  I didn’t, I swear I didn’t –”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says.  “I’ll see you the next time an election is contested in Nevada.”

Then Buddy Calhoun walks away, and Dan has to give him credit, that’s not a bad exit line.  And Amy doesn’t run after him, so she can’t be that upset.

“So,” he says, smirking at her (because he finally has her where he wants her, after _months_ ), “I take my coffee black, if you’re offering.”

Amy’s mouth is pressed in firm, furious line, and she all but growls at him, “ _Why?_ ”

“Why did I lay one on you just now?  Shouldn’t that be obvious?”

“You knew he was there.  _Didn’t you_?”

“Yeah,” Dan says, still grinning at her (maybe he can make her hit him), and he hasn’t felt this proud of himself since getting Jonah elected.  (Breaking up Amy and Buddy is the glacé cherry on the last two days).

“So, _why_ would you do that?”

“Why would you move to Nevada?”

“That’s not –”

“Were you ever going to tell me, Ame, or were you too scared?”

“Scared, why would I be –”

“Because you knew _I’d_ make you want to stay.”

“No, I…. I wasn’t even sure yet, why would I tell you something that might not even happen… I hadn’t decided.”

“And why is that, Amy?  What ever could it be that was holding you back?”

“Not you, you fucking narcissist.  I would have to be _out_ of my _mind_.  Maybe I thought you might be able to find it in the tattered remnants of a soul still clinging on in there to be happy for me, but –”

“Did you _fuck_ – since when have you been that naïve?  When have I _ever_ been happy for you?” (He doesn’t say “when you’re with someone who’s not me,” but then he doesn’t need to).

“Why would you even _care_?” Amy says, and her voice has that familiar tone that everyone has always described as shrill.  (But he won’t – he can deal with her being angry at him, but he’s not suicidal).

“Don’t you _know_ ,” he says.  “So damn smart, and you still can’t figure it out?”

“What on earth am I supposed to figure out?”

“Invite me in and I’ll tell you.”

“So you can find yet another way to fuck me?  _No._   I don’t understand why you would do this – when yesterday you were so… – are you even a person, or just some cat, playing with me for the fun of it?  This doesn’t even benefit you, in any way, so _why_?” 

She’s trying to take out her keys as she says this, and she’s so upset she fumbles, and has to bend down to get them.  Dan bends with her, and his face is right by hers, and it’s all he can do not to just grab her again.

“You’re not hearing me,” he says.  “If you were, you’d know that it does, and you’d know why.”

“Well your attempt to cryptic fucking crossword me into understanding you is not working,” she says, and opens her door. 

By the time he’s stood up, she’s about to close it, and it’s all he can do to catch it in one hand.  Amy grimaces, and he can’t help himself.  “No goodnight kiss?”

She wrenches the door out of his hand.  “Go fuck yourself, Dan.”

Amy slams it closed.

And Dan walks home with his hands in his pockets, whistling a little tune.  It’s a beautiful night.


	8. Chapter Eight

Surprise, surprise, Amy goes back to ignoring him after he ruins her relationship with the Mormon cowboy (or whatever the fuck Buddy was).  It’s pathetic and juvenile and high-school, but whatever, it’s not like Dan wasn’t expecting it.  He’s not worried, he can talk her round, he’s done it before.

Besides, she does the interview he set up at CBS, so she can’t be _really_ angry at him.  It’s so good it almost gives Dan a hard-on when he watches it.

They do the interview in Amy’s apartment, and she’s wearing that dark pink dress he’s always liked.  Sunlight shines on her hair as she comes out with some syrupy nonsense about her early days in Washington, and how the handling of her allegations against Ward had diminished her faith in the system, but brave women like Selina had shown her it could be fixed if they worked together.

(It helps that, for almost the first time Dan can remember, the producer isn’t giving her the ‘fuck-you’ edit).

Amy talks about how it had been difficult to have something so personal, something she’d thought far in her past, dug up and pawed over by the press.  “There’s so much pressure,” she says, looking both pretty and earnest, “on a woman in politics, to be perfect, to blaze a trail.  Even now, I’m often the only woman in the room, and I was sure that, if I let out even a hint of weakness, it would destroy me.  So reading that book… it was like a nightmare had come true.  But I realised that my thinking that, my letting my career be destroyed over it, would just send a message to every girl who’s ever struggled with the same problems that there’s no place for her in politics.  And we can’t allow that to be true.”

The interviewer smiles, all touched and moved by Amy’s strength – woman struggling against the patriarchy is such a hot narrative right now.  “You’ve been very brave, Amy – I know it must be very difficult to talk about these things.”  Amy nods (and probably only Dan can tell that it’s making her want to claw her skin off).

“I just have one question.  How did you feel when you saw that video?” (And here they cut to an extract of Dan’s rant – ending on the “hot as all hell” part.)

Amy tries, rather gracefully, to duck the question.  “I think, more than anything, I was surprised – in politics you get used to the idea that you’re on your own, so… to have someone up and defend me like that… after that week, it was… it was startling.  In a good way.”

The interviewer leans forward, conspiratorially (just us girls).  “And, about Dan Egan…”

“We’re old friends,” Amy says, clearly trying _not_ to squirm.

“Just friends?” the interviewer says.  “We’ve all become very fond of Dan here at CBS.” (Which, horseshit.  The producers still haven’t forgiven him for swearing during a live broadcast).  “And it’s not like him to get emotional on air.  It would be nice to think he had someone like –”

 Amy tries to laugh (badly), and says, “I’ll tell you what I told my mother, because she had the same question.  I’m sorry if anyone’s disappointed, but I’m afraid… I’m afraid Dan only said what he said because… that’s just the kind of person he is.”

To anyone who’s watching, it sounds like she’s saying he’s just _such_ a _good_ man.  (And his rant has done wonders for his reputation, which is a nice plus).  But Dan… Dan’s fairly certain that’s not what she means – though what she _does_ intend he can’t quite work out.  He’s not sure she knows.

He gets a text from Ben a few minutes later.

“Not bad fuckweasel.  Selina’s inviting you to the house next weekend.  Show up.  A will be there.”

He can’t quite make out the connection, but he goes – two days seclusion with Amy is not an opportunity to be missed.

Although, when he arrives, he realises seclusion may not have been the word.  It’s more like some Agatha Christie house party – though, if anyone’s going to wind up murdered, his money’s on Kent.

(He arrives at the same time as Amy, who flat-out refuses to let him help her with her bag, and blushes like a strawberry when Gary asks why Buddy couldn’t come.  She looks anywhere but at Dan and mutters, “We broke up.” 

Gary is clearly annoying the shit out of her when he says, “I am _so_ sorry.  But you know, someday Amy, someone is going to look right into your good, kind heart, and –”

“Shut the fuck up Gary,” Amy barks, and Dan laughs.  He’s only surprised it took her so long.  She ignores him, and drags her bag off to the tower room that had been assigned to her and Buddy – to give them some privacy.)

It’s a strange event.  Most of the old crowd are there (even Richard, on whom Selina seems to have fucking…imprinted, or something), plus a pair of nitwits from the Maryland DNC, who follow Amy around like a pair of rabbits, wanting to talk about her media presence and her book and every other damn thing.

There are drinks on the veranda (and he can’t talk to Amy), and a barbecue dinner (and he can’t talk to Amy), and Dan genuinely starts to wonder why he even bothered to come (and why he’s wearing a suit in the middle of August).

He tries not to look as though he’s eavesdropping on all her conversations (and fails) (miserably), but it’s pure luck that he overhears the one conversation that’s actually relevant.  He’d gone into the kitchen to get a beer, realised he needed a glass, and stepped into the pantry (and Selina’s house actually _had_ a pantry, it was ridiculous). He’s just taking it out of the cupboard, when he hears Selina say, “So why _did_ you and…”

“Buddy.”

“Break up.  Was it the eating disorder, the headlines?”

“Not exactly,” Amy said, “Though he was weird about it.”  Selina must have reacted somehow, because after a moment she continued.  “He kept…wanting me to like weep all over his shoulder, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.  It wasn’t to make me feel better, it was for him.  He didn’t have any _idea_ what to do with me… and I think my deep dark flaw freaked him out.”

“Well, Ame, if he was even vaguely worth keeping around, he wouldn’t have given a fuck.  But what was it?”

“Ma’am, I’d really rather not –”

“I need to know that you’re not going to run back to Nevada in three weeks because you’ve reconciled.”

“That’s not going to happen.  He…he thinks I cheated on him.”

“Did you?”

“No.”  There’s a pause, and then Amy says, sounding ashamed.  “Maybe.  I opened a door I shouldn’t have, put it that way, and…the person took advantage, because of course he did – of fucking course he did – and –”

“The person?” Selina says, and Dan knows that tone… it sounds like she knows (or at least suspects) (but she couldn’t?) (could she?).  “Amy, tell me you at least got a good dicking out of it.”

“Sorry to disappoint ma’am.”

“Let me tell you what I told Catherine – back when she wasn’t dating insufferable vegans.  Men are _awful_.  Without exception.  And the only trick is…to find one who’s the right _kind_ of awful.  Because if you still want his dick even when he’s at his worst… he’s probably the one.  But that doesn’t mean he’s _not_ awful.”

“Thank you ma’am.”

“Well, at least you’re not fucking off to Carson City.  Now, you and I need to go have some serious conversation with the Maryland idiots in the study, so put your work face on.”

And they leave.  When Dan gets outside the party seems to have broken up, and he drinks his beer, looking up at the stars and smiling to himself.  Phase one is over.

Which means Phase two needs to start almost immediately, so when he’s finished his drink, he runs up the stairs, grabs his supplies, and goes to wait in Amy’s room.

Unsurprisingly, it’s much nicer than his and, usefully, there’s a table and two stairs.  He sets up the bottle of whisky and two glasses, and waits.  And waits.

He’s read every possible article on twitter, emailed his agent and his producer, and played twenty-something games of Sudoku before Amy arrives.

She doesn’t see him at first.  She kicks her shoes off the moment she gets in the room, and leans her head back against the door, and she’s smiling so broadly that Dan almost starts smiling himself too, just in reaction.  She does a little…foot-stampy, dance thing, and claps her hands, and when she looks up and finally sees him, she jumps.  “What are you doing in here?”

Dan takes a sip of his drink.  “Guess.”

“If you’ve chosen me as the first victim in your serial murder spree… I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Have a drink,” Dan says, and pours one out for her.  She takes it, but he can tell she’s wary.  When she lifts it to her mouth, he does the same, and (unsurprisingly) it becomes a test of who’s willing to stop drinking first.  (He loses, but only because there was less in his glass to start with).

Amy stares at him.  “You do realise this isn’t charming, or whatever it’s meant to be?”

“What do you think it’s meant to be?”

“Creepy.”

“Damn,” Dan says, and he tops up both their glasses, not taking his eyes off her.  When she takes another sip, he sits back in his chair and starts rolling up his sleeves.  Amy’s eyes drop to his forearms and he smirks and says, “Getting you hot and bothered?  Worried I’m going to turn you into my own personal finger puppet?”

It takes her a moment to fully grasp what he means, at which point she frowns (in what she probably _wants_ him to think is disgust).  He raises an eyebrow at her, and she rolls her eyes and knocks back her drink.

She comes closer to him – right by his chair – and says, “Dan, I don’t know what it is you think I can do for you… but this is not the way to get me to do it.”

Dan stands – surprising her slightly, and she takes a step back.  “You do know,” he says, following her.  “You know exactly what I want.”

Amy shakes her head, still retreating (and he’s still following).  “For a professional communicator,” she said, “You really do not excel at making things clear.”

The back of her knees hit the bed, and Dan raises an eyebrow at her.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “I think I’m getting my point across.”

Amy pushes past him, and Dan sits down on the bed, eyes tracking her movements.  She’s pacing up and down the room, glancing at him as she goes.

“I don’t understand you at all,” she says.  “I can’t get you a job, I can’t get you access to power any more, I can’t do anything for you… and you usually don’t work this hard for…”

“Exactly,” he says.  (How is she not _getting_ this?)  (It should be obvious).

“So, what, you just can’t help yourself?”

“Something like that.”

Amy looks dubious – and he supposes he can’t blame her.  (He surprised _himself_ after all).  He meets her gaze, steady, and finally, she looks away.

“And if,” she says, like she’s voicing a brand new thought.  “If I were to give you what you want… will you stop treating my life like your own personal laboratory?”

“Of course,” he says, grinning.  “It’s not like I enjoy this, you know.”

“Yes.  Yes, it is.”

“Amy, I promise, if I have you… I will rein it all in.”  And he surprises himself again because… he means it.  Having her close (even annoyed with him) is better than… well, infinitely better than knowing she was out there close to someone else.

“Okay,” she says, and then she looks at him for a long moment, as though reassuring herself that he’s real.  Dan holds his hand out, and she takes it, tentatively, and when she meets his eyes again she’s… she’s shy that’s what she is.  (It reminds him of that night in Nevada, if anything).

So Dan pulls her in, slowly, giving her time to pull back if she wants to.  But when she’s pressed up against his chest, she doesn’t look like she does.  He starts to run his hands up and down her sides, but _Amy’s_ the one who kisses him.

Her hands cup his face, and he can feel her hair brushing against his cheeks.  It’s a smooth, firm kiss, and when he forces her lips open with his own, he feels her smile, ever so slightly, before his tongue brushes against hers. 

When she responds, Dan groans (and Amy’s breath shudders).

(Every time he’d fought with her, he could have been doing this).

He would have expected – insofar as he’d ever thought about it – that when he and Amy finally gave in and fucked, it would have been rushed and aggressive… but it’s not.  It’s the longest he’s just kissed a woman since…well, since he was allowed to do anything else. 

Dan slides his hand up the back of her neck and deepens the angle of the kiss, his tongue pressing into hers more urgently (they both struggle to give up dominance).  Amy makes a low, pleased sound, and she presses herself even closer to him, so that all he can feel is the softness of her breasts and hips.

They only break the kiss when Dan succeeds in removing her underwear - pushing it silkily down her legs, and letting his hands run back up the smooth skin of her thighs.  Amy looks at him, biting her lip (he wishes she’d bite _his_ ), and he says, “Did you think I was joking?”

“Yes,” she says as he touches her, and she closes her eyes.  He kisses her neck and strokes her gently, waiting to hear the little sounds that will tell him he’s found the right spot.  When she lets out a low hiss, he knows he’s got it, and he lavishes attention on it, as though he has all the time in the world.

She says his name, all shaky and full of breath, but he doesn’t stop.  Amy’s starting to lean harder against him now, her hands pressed into his shoulders, actually using him to support her, and she sighs and says, “Can we…Dan, can we … I can’t stand.”

Dan doesn’t need to be told twice, and he pulls her on to the bed with him, twisting so he’s settled ( _so_ comfortably) between her legs.  It’s all he can do not to rut against her.  “Better?” he says, pushing his hips into hers.

Amy pulls his head down to hers, and kisses him, again, and as she does so, her hands travel sneakily down towards his belt.  Before Dan even knows what she’s doing, she’s pushing his pants down (with hands, and then feet), and he’s pressed fully against her, her skirt all rucked up around her hips.

(He did remember to bring condoms, and there is the usual awkward moment when he has to retrieve one, and in so doing he accidentally traps Amy’s hair under his arm, and his hands are more clumsy than they should be when he goes to unwrap it, and not a damn thing about it is sexy, but when she laughs, she laughs prettily, so there’s that).

But when he slides into her, they both gasp, and she feels so good – so firm and warm and smooth and wet – and he wants to bury his face in her hair and just _push_ …

But Dan has actually done this more than once before, even if he doesn’t feel like it right now, and – while there were times when he didn’t care, this isn’t one of them.  Amy is staring up at him with this look on her face… slightly distant, like she’s studying him, and he knows that it’s not doing it for her like it is for him.

So he tries one angle – and then another – and then another… and when he finds one that has her gasping, clawing his shirt into her fists and sliding her eyes shut, he kisses her, very gently, and says, “Yeah?”

Amy nods – like finding a word would take too much energy – and _then_ Dan starts to move.  She’s braced on the bed, and her hands run along his arms and down his back, and it’s too much, he can’t go slow, he _can’t…_  

He’s chasing his own pleasure, forcing Amy’s hips ever wider, and pushing himself in further and further and she is the best feeling he’s _ever_ had and…

He’s so fucking relieved when he feels her come (and hears her too, all those involuntary, desperate sounds she makes only driving him onwards), because then he can, and it’s not far off, not now, and then light flashes behind Dan’s eyes…

When he comes to, he finds he’s lying completely on her, his arms having given out, and his face is buried in the skin of her neck, and she smells so good…

Amy pushes at him, pushes at his chest.  “Dan,” she says.  “ _Dan_.”

“Sorry,” he says, and he starts to lift himself up (and it feels like he weighs twice as much as usual), but she pushes harder.  “Dan, I can’t _breathe_!” she says, something slightly hysterical in her voice, and Dan rolls off her (it’s less than graceful).

He wants nothing more than to lie on the bed and just exhale for a while (and maybe stroke Amy’s skin) (though he'd have to get more of her clothes off first) (he'd been in too much of a hurry).  He more hears than sees her get off the bed – she’s padding around the room, and then she pours herself a drink and knocks it back – and it’s only when she doesn’t return to him, that Dan looks up.

She’s sitting at the table, looking everywhere but at him.  She’s hiding, almost, behind the thick curtain of her hair, and… and this is weird.  This is not the joyful Amy he’d expected to have, and Dan cocks his head to look at her.  (His breathing has almost returned to normal, which helps).

Amy won’t look at him, and he waits a minute or two (to regain his voice) before asking, “Everything all right?”

“Fine,” she says, and then adds, in a small voice, “Aren’t you going to go?”

“Do you _want_ me to?” Dan asks and… and he’s surprised, he can’t help it.

She still won’t look at him.  “Would it matter?” she says, and then takes another drink.

“Well I’d rather not have to walk down the corridor with my flaccid dick hanging out,” Dan says, “So yeah, it matters.”

She’s still hiding behind her hair, and it’s getting weird, so Dan forces himself to sit up.  (He has to remove the condom first – never a greatly dignified moment – so he’s almost grateful she’s not looking at him).

He crouches beside her chair, and Amy actually turns away from him.  “You got what you wanted,” she said, “So I think you should just…”

Dan takes her chin in his hand, and turns her head so he can see her face.  “What is the…” his voice trails off because Amy… Amy is _crying_.

(He has seen Amy so hopped up on victory and caffeine she’s been bouncing off walls.  He’s seen her so hungry and exhausted she can barely speak.  He’s seen her stressed out and (he suspects) pre-menstrual, cursing the world in general and him in particular.  He has never seen her cry (from anything but fury) before).

“Okay, drama queen,” he says, “why are you –”

“Can’t you just… just once, be _kind_.”

“Nope.  Sorry.”

Amy swipes a hand across her face, brutally, like she’s angry at herself, but she can’t stop the tears from falling.  He winces looking at it.   “You just – ” she says, and Dan cuts her off, pulling her to him and letting her bury her face in his neck.  She’s shaking all over.

Which is _not_ how he envisaged spending his evening, but he’s clearly not going to get anything _useful_ out of her until she’s calmed the fuck down… so he strokes her back, and kisses her hair, and slowly, so slowly, he feels her trembling cease.

When he hasn’t felt a tear on his skin in a while, he says, “You want to tell me what this is about?”

“Do I _want_ to?” Amy says, and she sounds…she sounds _past_ exhausted _._  “I can’t work out… what do you _want_ Dan?”

“I thought that was obvious,” he says.

He’s not sure why this is what drives Amy over the edge, but it does.  “Obvious?  _Obvious_?  As long as I have known you, you have only been interested in fighting and fucking power.  You don’t even like people – you don’t like _anyone_ – and I can’t… I can’t understand… this isn’t helping you.  I can’t help you.  You’ve won, okay, you won.  But at least when you were destroying everyone in your path before, it was because you wanted something from them!  There’s nothing you want that I have, so why do you keep toying with me?”

“Well, think about it, Amy,” he says.  “You should be able to figure it out.”

“No.  No, I can’t, okay, I can’t, you win, nothing you are doing makes even the slightest bit of sense to me.  Buddy was _kind_ to me, and you just… you destroyed it.”

“Oh, I think there was a pair of us in that.”

“I could understand it if you… if you wanted…do you want to be my fucking boyfriend, or something, is that it?”  (He knew she’d get there eventually – though it took longer than he expected).

“Yes,” Dan says.  (And he is going to remember that look on Amy’s face for a long time, because it is a thing of beauty and a joy forever).

“ _What_?”

“Yes I want to be your fucking boyfriend.  Especially the first part.”

“Since when?”

He doesn’t have an answer for that, and he turns to her old stalwart.  “Does it matter?”

“Yes!  Yes, it matters, it… why would _you_ want that?”

He’s still hunkered next to her, and he puts his hand on one of her knees and starts inching it upwards.  (He's got a better chance of convincing her if he's touching her). “Besides the obvious?”

“Please,” Amy scoffs.  “As you have made very clear, on numerous occasions, you can get the obvious anywhere you want it.  Not good enough, Dan.”

“I didn’t mean sex,” he said.  (Which was true).  “I can’t get _you_ anywhere.”

“You do realise… I _know_ you, Dan.  You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself - why on earth should I believe that’s changed?”

“Because nothing else makes sense.  You said it yourself.  And you know how I feel about you.”

“I know you’d rather sleep with _my sister_ than –”

Amy stopped, looking as though she felt she had made an error.

“Rather?” Dan said, “I didn’t know it was a case of _rather_.  If I’d known you were an option, I’d –” 

“You’d have what?  Chosen me over an opportunity to advance your – ”

“Yes,” he said.  (Because it was true).

Amy looked almost frightened.  “Dan, this isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be.”

“It’s not even a little bit funny.”

“I don’t know,” he said, “You can’t see your face.”

Amy stood then, pushing his arms off her, and walked away from him.  “So you want me to believe that you – that the reason you’ve been acting like the creepiest… is all because of your feelings for me?”  It was clear from her tone how ludicrous she thought the suggestion was.

“No, I act like that because I’m a shit.  You know that.  My feelings for you are just…” Dan paused for thought.  “Look, it surprised me too.”

“And if,” Amy said, and she was watching him very carefully, “if I told you that it was my fault you had a breakdown in London, it was my fault the Ray Whelan story got out, that I torpedoed your career _on purpose_ , what would you say then?”

She clearly thought she was admitting to something terrible, and Dan smiled.  “I’d say it’s a fucking relief to know it wasn’t Jonah.  Jesus, Amy, the _shame_ of that, you can’t imagine.”

“You’re not angry?”

“No.”

(What he _didn’t_ say was that, given he’d 1) supposedly broken her heart back in the day, 2) taunted her about it, 3) slept with her sister, 4) taunted her about it, 5) broken up her relationship with Buddy, and 6) taunted her about it, he kind of thought they were even).

“Why aren’t you angry?  When you… I wanted to _hurt_ you when you –”

“It’s different,” he says.  (This is all a test.  Amy still doesn’t believe him.  If he really wanted her – if he really cared about her – what she’d done wouldn’t matter.  She would know, of course - she still wanted _him_ ).

“No, it’s _not_ different –”

“Amy.  If it’ll help – I forgive you.”

“Fuck you, Dan.”

“That’s already taken care of, but if you want to go for round two, I've no objections.”

Her face did that thing where she clearly _wanted_ to be annoyed with him, but was laughing all the same.  “Now,” he said, “Can we go back to bed?  Because I was really hoping to at least get your top off tonight.”

“You really overestimate how charming you are.”

“With other people maybe.  Not with you.”

Amy looked at her hands (and man, Dan could not wait for the day when she was no longer this nervous around him, because the Amy he knew was a goddamn ballbuster and all the hotter for it).

“This isn’t…” she said, and there was something calculating in her tone that didn’t bode well.  “This isn’t because of the selection committee, is it?”

“What?”

“I mean, you’re not doing this because a powerful girlfriend will look good, are you?”

“Amy, you’re not powerful.  We just spent what felt like hours talking about it.”

“But I might be.”

“Well… tell me.”

She smiled then.  “The representative for the eighth Maryland district has pancreatic cancer and it’s terminal and…”

“They want you to run,” Dan said.  “I can see it.  Local girl – went all the way to the White House, battling the patriarchy with one hand and Selina’s incompetence with the other.  And a solid 10, too, which… we all know that helps.”

“Stop talking about me like one of your narrative angles.”

“What part is wrong?”  She shifts, and he adds.  “You know you’re going to have to…distance yourself from Selina, if it’s going to work.  She’s more toxic than Jonah right now.”

“I can’t –”

“Yes, you can.”  And he grins then, because he’s worked it out.  “That’s why I’m here – that’s why Ben insisted.  They want me to run your campaign.”

“No,” Amy said, clearly horrified.

“Please, I’m the obvious choice.  You need a campaign manager you can’t instantly steamroll, and I’d be amazed if there are even three of those alive.”

Amy looks dubious.  “You really expect me to believe you didn’t know about this.”

“I don’t care – besides, you _have_ to date me now.”

“What – no.”

“Think of the romance angle, Amy, people eat that stuff up.  Particularly when it happens to be true, which in this case it actually is.  People will love it when your hot TV star boyfriend talks about how wonderful you are.  Plus, I’m better on TV than you.”

“Couldn't you just say, ‘Amy, I like you, I care about you, I want to spend time with you –”

“If I told you I loved you, you wouldn’t believe me.  So why waste the breath?”

Amy looked winded, but rallied, “Remember what I said about things not being funny?”

“Wasn’t meant to be.”

And then Dan kissed her.  And that was it.

(But he did get her top off).

(And if Amy woke up the next morning with a headache, it was her own damn fault for drinking three straight shots of whisky, and Dan didn’t enjoy her bitching at him one bit).

(Though he probably did deserve it when she hit him for asking if the night before counted as “a good dicking.”)

(Which did inspire him to go down on her before breakfast, and the sounds she made were so much pleasanter that he decided it had been worth it).

He runs her campaign.

In the end, they both win.

**Author's Note:**

> I may have a Dan/Amy problem...


End file.
